They met, in London's Springtime haze <br />and entered into a short phase <br />of snap assessment of each other, <br />as if they'd hoped to find a brother, <br />or, rather an attractive sister. <br />The one who's called (by Allan) Mister <br />looked just exactly like I'd dreamed, <br />moustache and all, his features beamed, <br />although I 'd guessed a smaller waist <br />and next to him old fate had placed <br />Gina, who smiled, (what could she do) <br />good looking truly was the crew, <br />mischievous face there on the right <br />well, I do think, some day I might <br />be lucky to be in the middle, <br />and if you want, I'll bring my fiddle.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poets-meet-in-london/
