Of Huns And Suns

Poem By Herbert Nehrlich

It is true, my hon
that not all of them, really
will be chipper and fun
so consider this freely
when you sit on your bun
in the morning's wee hours
that I may be the hun
who, like soft April showers
when all's said and all's done
would gift-wrap you in flowers
so when down goes our sun
the unwrapping brings joy
and, done slowly, is fun
you won't be my toy
you're second to none.
And your smile is the web
that our friendship has spun
thus there is no low ebb
or displeasure to shun
you ask about reading
another one wrong
which reminds me of needing
to hear a love song.
And the sun will not grow
inside your pink soul
I know this is so
as the sun is so whole
and you are such perfection
as those secret vibes told
so my own predilection
is your heart, made of gold.

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