Handwriting on the Wall
And so I said to myself - damn, I
Am lucky to know to know a woman so fine
As to make David sweat and cry
Because he lived and loved before her time.
Bathsheba had nothing on you, and your Jym
Is as rich as a king to have a moment with you.
Riddle me this - mene, tekel, whim -
What did I do to find a friend so true?
You have grace, beauty, charm - a wealth
Of anything loved and treasured by rank and file.
And yet I treasure your gentle caress, with stealth,
Along my ear, a sign of friendship and style.
I write this poem to frame in words for you
The ineffable friendship I feel for one so true.
copyright 30 July 2000 (On her birthday)
by Earle B. 'Glas' Durboraw; Birmingham.