I spend the morning cooing,
trying my hand at wooing!
Awaiting a response;
a smile, a nod, just once

in my direction
a glance;
a mere suggestion
that there’s still a chance

that we’ll sometime soon meet;
perhaps take a Safe seat!
Or a long, languid stroll
down an old, grapefull row.

A chance romance can be found
in a tilled garden, on embattled ground!