Für meine Liebe
Ever unsure of what we ought to do!
Imagination always running dry,
As plans we try and make, just me and you.
Perchance could we drive, train, or even fly;
Or just a night at home—we get so few!
I think we’ve still a half-bottle of wine,
The balsamic—grab—oil, and romaine—
Lefto’ers, the main dish upon which we dine.
Is this romance, or have we gone insane?
You just say, ‘I won’t let grandeur confine.’
As when the bells and whistles we forget,
Nothing bars confrontations of pure hearts,
Who before one another are now set—
Embracing how a quiet evening starts
Up mem’ry, and love’s will anew is whet.
Hoping for Clarity 