The magic of yes dear
She shrugs her shoulders at my poems
They seem to her mere epigram.
Goes back to read the news quite grim,
Much of which I don't give a damn.
It's true our attitudes diverge
And it's been that way from the start,
When I am free she has no urge,
When she is free it's a la carte.
But we do have relations flow
There is always a discussion.
She's constantly ready to go.
And I can't stand the rushin.
Seems to me she's non stop frantic
She's always in the high speed gear
While I am a slow romantic.
That controls her with my, " yes dear."
If you're into not withstanding.
Love is a many splendid thing