June 23, 2008
It's a chubby moroner,
and he thinketh sugar and spice.
With the glowing eyes and innocent smile
dreameth of donuts and liquorice
He stoppeth his lady, tall and fair,
Woeful mind and a look of doubt,
"What hath come into your head,
for you feast on cabbage and sprout?"
She smiles at the cherubic face,
Crown tilteth, glittering eyes,
Spake no word,
proceeds to swat the flies
A half-eaten donut
the moroner lefteth behind,
for he hath a fresh Belgian waffle,
seared onto his mind
Springing feet and merry heart
he flippeth at the sight
of scrumptious food and of his lady love
with whom he findeth delight
Music in his soul,
Gaiety he spreads
Charming every maiden,
'Tid many a man dreads
Restless, brimmeth thoughts,
his brilliant mind ashine
In his hands lie
the will to make all fine
'My chubby moroner,
Why art thou woebegone?'
Smiling spake he,
'My troubles are not gone'
'For many a times in the days by gone
We hath had many a fight,
I am yet to find peace
But I try with all might'
Smiling back, she sighs
Glinting, sure and calm,
"Honey it will be fine"
He resteth his chin hopefully in her soft palm
No comments:
Post a Comment