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Posts Tagged ‘blind dates’

 

She

I’m waiting for the man I hope to wed.

I’ve never seen him – that’s the funny part.


I promised I would wear a rose of red,


Pinned on my coat above my fluttered heart,


So that he’d know me – a precaution wise,


Because I wrote him I was twenty-three,

And Oh such heaps and heaps of silly lies. . .


So when we meet what will he think of me?

It’s funny, but it has its sorry side;


I put an advert. in the evening Press:


“A lonely maiden fain would be a bride.”

Oh it was shameless of me, I confess.


But I am thirty-nine and in despair,

Wanting a home and children ere too late,


And I forget I’m no more young and fair –

I’ll hide my rose and run…No, no, I’ll wait.

An hour has passed and I am waiting still.


I ought to feel relieved, but I’m so sad.

I would have liked to see him, just to thrill,


And sigh and say: “There goes my lovely lad!

My one romance!” Ah, Life’s malign mishap!


Garcon, a cafè creme.” I’ll stay till nine. . .

The cafè’s empty, just an oldish chap


Who’s sitting at the table next to mine. . .

He

I’m waiting for the girl I mean to wed.

She was to come at eight and now it’s nine.


She’d pin upon her coat a rose of red,

And I would wear a marguerite in mine.


No sign of her I see…It’s true my eyes

Need stronger glasses than the ones I wear,


But Oh I feel my heart would recognize

Her face without the rose – she is so fair.

Ah! what deceivers are we aging men!


What vanity keeps youthful hope aglow!


Poor girl! I sent a photo taken when 
I was a student, twenty years ago.


(Hers is so Springlike, Oh so blossom sweet!)


How she will shudder when she sees me now!


I think I’d better hide that marguerite -


How can I age and ugliness avow?

She does not come. It’s after nine o’clock.

What fools we fogeys are! I’ll try to laugh;


(Garcon, you might bring me another bock)


Falling in love, just from a photograph.

Well, that’s the end. I’ll go home and forget,


Then realizing I am over ripe


I’ll throw away this silly cigarette

And philosophically light my pipe.

* * * * *

The waiter brought the coffee and the beer,

And there they sat, so woe-begone a pair,


And seemed to think: “Why do we linger here?”

When suddenly they turned, to start and stare.


She spied a marguerite, he glimpsed a rose;

Their eyes were joined and in a flash they knew. . .


The sleepy waiter saw, when time to close,


The sweet romance of those deceiving two,


Whose lips were joined, their hearts, their future too.

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