You turned your head, I thought that meant that you were mine and I was yours.
You looked at me and I at you, I thought that meant our love was true.
Your color white and mine was black, you stood erect I watched your back.
You took a step, I followed you, you stopped to rest, I thought of you.
I flew away, you held your ground, you looked too dumb, I was no clown.
Should I return to be your mate you must not leave, please take my bait.
We may not be the perfect match, four times my size you realize.
Still here we are in love with each, you say it's odd to share my beach.
They look at us, all creatures fair, we seem to be a happy pair.
Glen Wheeler August, 1990, Vancouver
|
|