“I love you.
I love you not.
I love you.
I love you not.”
My wife looked bemused. “So is that what your old girlfriend said when she jilted you?”
I shrugged… ”We knew long before, that our romance was hopeless. She gave our split a theatrical twist by plucking daisy petals as we sat on a park bench.”
Barbara wrinkled her nose. “That was over forty years ago. Why mention it to me now?”
I shrugged again. “Because we’re in a park sitting on a bench, and there’s a daisy to your left.”
My wife nodded, picked the daisy, and gave me a stern look. She started plucking, eventually reaching,
“I love you.
I love you not.
I love you MAYBE.
I love you.”
I sighed, gave Barbara a hug. “Saved by ‘MAYBE’.”
Barbara answered with a kiss.
We sat contentedly, not saying a word until a butterfly gracefully landed on a daisy.
Barbara observed,
“How quietly
An orange Monarch
Breaks my Silence.”
"Mine, too”, I agreed. “It’s a lovely creature. No ‘maybe’ either.”
Opmerkingen