My love is like a red, red rose —
Don’t ask why; a poet just knows.
She’s the fairest flower aborning….
Even first thing in the morning.

She’s been the blessing of my life —
I bet you think that she’s my wife.
You say someone put that wedding band on her finger.
On the other hand, there’s such a thing as a dead ringer.


7 comments on “LOVE IN BLOOM – WHO WAS THAT GUY?

  1. arekhill1 says:

    Does Senora Muse pay attention to what you write? I find it’s best to conceal some of my output from my S.O.


  2. mistermuse says:

    Usually not, Ricardo…but then she doesn’t pay attention to what I say, either – so, no big deal. Besides, just because bachelor (WHO WAS THAT GUY) muse bit the dust on our wedding day doesn’t mean married muse thinks Senora Muse hasn’t been “the blessing of my life” (just in case she’s reading this – ha ha).


    • I enjoyed the beginning of your poem, LOVE IN BLOOM which was so sweet and romantic. Then I was dismayed to read the ending. Ricardo is right…do not let your wife see this because if I were she, I would be furious. Hell hath no fury, etc.


  3. mistermuse says:

    Be not furious, fair Michaeline, for appearances oft not reflect truly what thine eyes see when yon poet writeth with tongue in cheek. I assureth thee that Lady Muse doth hath a bounteous sense of humor and wouldst fain laughest heartily at my bit of drollery whilest she chaseth after me all overeth the castle with broadsword and battleaxe.


  4. Don Frankel says:

    I was pretty sure that was your wife you were referring to and she’s more than used to you by now.


  5. mistermuse says:

    She’d better be. The big 50th (wedding anniversary) is coming up in a few years, and it would be a big waste to blow it with any last minute cold feet.


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