On that damp September eve in Rome, Italy
At the romantic fountain of Trevi
Mark got down on bended knee
And said the words ‘will you marry me?’
He produced the most sparkly, stunning ring
And said ‘it’s for you the most beautiful thing
I’ve ever known in this life
Would you do me the honour and become my wife?’
Coins bounced off the top of your umbrella
As Mark waited patiently on his wet patella
You finally accepted as you loved this fella
Then you rang your daughter you just couldn’t wait to tell her
Advertisements
I’m working through the dark ages of my email before distraction whisks me off to elope. Distraction, Depression, Delirium, or worse, I’ll probably (against my wishes) be wed to one of these soon. There’s no elegant fountain and no bended knee, and no romance to mine at all.
But I wanted to say, I thought this was a brilliant and lovely poem. Thank you for sharing! Sorry I took five-ever to say anything. Can’t believe I said “five-ever,” but the teens corrupted me back a few years ago when they were saying that, and it has been longer than for-ever. DM
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha ha thanks. It’s about one of my sisters. Unfortunately no romance for me either! Well not yet anyway but you never know. :)))
LikeLiked by 1 person