Letters To Rhoda No.2 Poem by Patrick Utitufon

If men were infallible
And all our weaknesses unknown
And our nature were predictable
Should you call me your own

Had the world a flaxen bed of roses
Each season a fine perfect clime
And every ocean in high tide tosses
Precious pearls on the sands of time

If flowers blossom without fading
And all desires come by a wink
If the sun rises without setting
And our expectations were as we think

Would we then sit to reminisce
Every moment we shared by the shore
And if all were pleasant memories
Then call me your paramour.