She is May,
And I am December.
She appeared one day,
And she fanned the embers.
She is morning,
And I am twilight.
She's just started soaring,
And I'm scared of heights.
She is so fresh,
Like the morning dew.
I'm an old geyser
That no longer spews.
I guess I'm as lucky,
As lucky can be.
Because with so many young bucks,
She decided on me.
10/6/10 Alton Texas