Push patiently,
A story without.
The leer looks on,
A true-love found.
But it does amount,
To a smile through a fog,
And the exacting piece,
Of a passing along.
With the thanks I give,
To the small and big,
Perhaps it is more live,
Than drink, drink, drink.
But she continues to dispel,
The haze from her gate,
It is just with me,
The frustration is placed.
©R.H.Elliott 2003
Well said. Spoken like a true connoseur of the froth & bubbly.
amy
Gentle is the night♥