when we would quickly
insert the key in the door,
offering our cheeks
for the briefest of pecks
before uttering a quick goodnight,
you smile and simply
say, "i'll give you a call
tomorrow" -
so come;
when the server stops by
to warm up your coffee
for the seventh time in an
hour and a half, remarking,
'isn't this the fourth or fifth
night they haven't shown up?'
you hand him the bill
with a double-tithed tip,
whispering (as much to yourself)
"that's okay;
i'm good at waiting" -
so come;
when we've packed up all
your blessings, and put them
out on the front porch
with a note that reads
'if you have anything more to say,
do it through the lawyer,'
you send two dozen red roses,
along with a singing telegram:
"I've grown accustomed
to your face" -
so come;
come,
Wooer of our hearts,
with love as soft
as a baby's breath,
come!
(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman
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