Wednesday, June 15, 2005

From A Senior Citzen

I am picturing Dorota
As wearing a straw boater,
Singing row row row yer boat
On Oxford's stream.

Now I see Dorota
Sipping a club soda,
Eating peach compote
And French ice cream.

Then Dorota's in Verona
Dining on pasta roti;
She's saying, "Ah, Madronne!"
Making quite a scene.

Or I envision fair Dorota
In the splashing surf at Cote
D'Azur, turning apricot
In hue, sans sunscreen.

Though she cares not one iota,
Yours truly, this old doter,
Goes on imagining Dorota
In bright dreams:

Now she's driving a Desoto
From Maine to North Dakota;
She really revs the motor,
Makes it scream.

Then she's singing note for note
Her song to a flute recorder;
How melodiously Dorota
Soars and keens.

But the actual Dorota,
Not this imagined ghostly floater-
I claim to've seen,

This all too real Dorota
Can be brisker, rather frothier,
Chillier and far remoter
Than that stream!

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