Not many people can toast their muse
with real sherry made in Port Moody.
I’m a young man from here up.
From the waist down I’m dead or should be.
Not likely, dearest man, explaining yr fuchsias
grown from slips, hydrangeas blue & purple
from grafting, clematis weighing down the trellis.
My supper is brought in the evenings by Maureen.
Crossing that yard. Well, well.
My middle name is Maureen too /
crossing that yard every time.
Every time. Leave it at that.