So on a surprisingly fine day..at the end of last March
Spring time just kicked in.. the air rife with the thought..
At Butler Wharf they meet, these two dear strangers of mine
I know them both well, a bit at the least
And from a distance I watch as they dine and make feast
Says one to another- chirpy banter they make
As the real drama plays out ..unspoken and as silent as night
Thing is..I can read both their minds..so this is classic at best.
The Lion and the Virgin, oh dear..what will they say?
Still watching and smiling, my head in a twirl..
As different as peas, this way and the next
The mystery palette painting a picture of clues
The rebel in a bottle and yea shy of hints
The conservative giggler, distrusting as any
Yes, three peas in a pod..Him, Her and Myself
What if he asks her to dance and she waves him away
Fiery Nigerian girl with so much to say..
And if the wine doesn't take him so far
Will his notions die out unborn and dismayed
And if she asks him to tell as the Lion thinks it
Will he think her intrusive, English man with the spirit
Before the wine takes him so far, the challenge will be
Can he show her himself, relaxed and unguarded
The questions abound as the meal fizzles out
These two strangers of mine still chirpy at best
Guarded, politely, they go on and on
The spoken, the unspoken ve all come out to play
Parallel and unnoticed in this unhealthy unison..