At the corner in the city sat a corner store,

covered in plastic from the evening pour.

I held out the umbrella and covered my head,

my girl pouted as her lips dripped red.

She grabbed the umbrella and pulled it near,

I apologized and wiped her lips clear.

A stock boy clipped tulips into a plastic pot,

I tread past but she bent and stopped.

I reached past my coat to pat at my pocket,

“I don’t have enough,” I yelled over the racket.

She sniffed and tweaked each petal with care,

dismissing my call with not even a stare.

I looked through the fruits and Chinese buffet,

And said, “bought you some the other day.”

She lifted a bouquet from its tight quarters,

and handed to me to act as her porter.

The thorns ripped through my leather-gloved hand,

and I bit my cheek and swallowed the strand.

She led me to the cashier out front,

I glanced at the helplessness of her staged stunt.

For what to do with a woman’s demands,

but reach into my heart and fulfill her plans.

I paid for the flowers and bought her sweets,

I learned long ago, she’s a sucker for treats.

I presented her gifts with a flourishing wave,

and she clapped and smiled at my great save.

After many months we filled with small joys,

sadness broke us up like two big toys.

I don’t remember what led me astray,

But I remember her kindness of that wet day.

She taught me to woo and think of my mate,

And never take for granted each and every date.