‘I’ve decided what I want for my birthday,’ she informed me.
‘Great,’ I replied, having totally forgotten that her birthday was near.
‘Two weeks to go,’ she said cheerfully, ‘so you have plenty of time.’
‘Okay, well what is it?’
‘I think it would be really sweet and romantic if you…’ she paused with a smile, working on the dramatic effect. ‘If you wrote a poem for me.’
I actually laughed out loud, until I realised that she was serious.
‘You are joking,’ I exclaimed. ‘You have to be. Me write a poem? I haven’t even read a poem since I left school.’
‘No joke,’ she assured me. ‘I want a poem.’
‘I have never written a poem.’
‘Well then, how lovely will it be that your very first poem will be for me.’ She hugged herself and shivered.
So here I am writing and scribbling, scribbling and writing.
God, I am so useless.
I love you
Your eyes are blue.
Your hair is blonde…
That’s what I’ve come up with so far. Now trying to find a rhyme for ‘blonde’.,,
I’ll have to break up with her next week. There’s really is no other choice.