A Measure Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I'm really not a whimp.
The word timidity
was not in use,
where Dad and
all the rellies spoke.
They hung around
and made the rules,
declared most folks
as silly fools,
while I, the number two
was left to play
with my devices
every day.

My childhood would
have truly been
the dream of any shrink,
twas never dull
and, due to allied bombs
that visited with regularity,
it kept us on our toes,
and formed our souls,
deep in our chests
in soldier's vulgar prose.

Today, having caught up
to modern life,
I fell into an estuary,
on the Northern coast,
things went,
as far as one could tell,
exceedingly,
I'll skip the other adjectives
of course.
I woke
the morning was azure,
and we held hands
inside the shower
spilling soap,
and then we sat
to rest
and kiss
to simply hug
wet skin
and drink our scents,
and, while I sat
on Tuscan tiles
it did occur to me
that she may say,
and kiss
and hug
and sleep
the lovers' sleep but that,
for reasons
quite unknown,
I really may not,
oh God,
not measure up
not measure up at all.