As I think of you I look at me –
I’m fat old stooped losing my
teeth, what’s there for you to
love, like you say you do?
You told me you don’t want to
be alone anymore. And you say
I’m nice to you. I’m sweet, you
I’m lost here, dear.
There is no litmus test for “love” –
but I wish there were!
Of course I know I’m chasing you
away with my doubts. And I know
it’s wrong and foolish.
Because I like you.
You have a charming childishness,
and you giggles, blushes and you
are shy able to cry wild like a child –
(Not deemed to be man qualities,
but no doubt you are!)
And that’s what strikes me about
you and what appeals me with you.
And despite my limitations, faults
and failures – I’m able to love a lot.
You got that? (As you got me!)
But of course you’re like every man
eager at first (like a lady starting a
new diet) to get the desired woman
on track and when succeeded going
back to ordinary habits with jobs
and lads and laze around so tired
after the keen hunt and completely
unaware the woman feel forgotten
lacking the attention he spoiled her
with when he wooed her and she
starts to feel as the needy one and
now insecure of herself and less
certain of the man’s affection she
becomes sad though she’s tries
not to show as it feels humiliating
to be so weak and dependent.
Morning pull back curtains opens
blinds another cloudy day without
you but I know it’s the same for you
and I almost dare to believe it’s true
you’re the silver lining