By Rose Mary Boehm
We had it made, my love, and do you think,
When looking back, it could be working still?
Well, thank you, dear. I take that potent drink
Which may protect me from this sudden chill.
I do remember being young and sure,
So free from doubt as only youth can be.
My hair is grey, my notions more mature.
As to presumptions that I can’t foresee
Don’t let them worry you before tonight
When in the warmth of hearth and glow of wine
Old lust may peak and force us to decide
To fall into old patterns or decline.
We have danced well, our courtship fired.
The king is dead, the courtiers long retired.
Copyright 2019 Boehm