Ruthie And Hoibel Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Hoibel was allowed to go
in the playground, get to know
all the kiddies on the block
Hoibel did receive a shock;
blond and pretty, named Ruth Ann
played there with the watering can.
Watered flowers, leaves and grass
even fountains made of brass.

Hoibel went to say Hello,
stubbed his little hammertoe.
Did forget why he had come,
Ruthy thought he must be dumb.
They exchanged a few more words
then they went to watch the birds.

Brief thus was the time together
and it's undecided whether
anything would have transpired,
Hoibel wasn't quite yet wired.

Hoibel had good taste but was
unfamiliar with the laws
of the jungle and the city
which, in hindsight was a pity,
had he been a bit more clever
he would never (yes, would never)
have abandoned his first try.
In addition he was shy.

Well, the summer was soon over,
Hoibel took the ship to Dover,
he had played a few more times
done some hoola-hoops and climbs,
and, though smitten with her features
treated her like cruel teachers
handled young and hopeful pupils,
Hoibel did not know that scruples
needed to be part of life,
as antagonist to strife.

Something burned a little lesion
in his heart, and an adhesion
formed that did not cause him pain,
and it itched at times. In vain.

Thus it is that time disperses
all its chapters and its verses,
molecules will eye up close
strange ones, neutral ones and those
that have kindred properties,
closer yet than chalk and cheese.

In the greater scheme of things
only spirits may have wings,
and the lucky one may wonder
shake his graying head and ponder
who of all the gods had switched
on the lantern when it itched,
in the end he smells the flowers
stands there in the Autumn showers
dances as she takes his hands
and at last he understands.