Damsel In Pink Dress
Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Once upon a girl in Spring
in the shade of an old shack
entranced, we heard the finches sing,
it took some time to wander back.
I'd found her standing by the road
with two flat tyres, facial sadness.
'twas in the upper Mother Lode
where gold fever and other madness
had taken hold of people's minds.
She had been to the local shop
to buy a pair of cotton blinds,
the kind that makes the sunlight stop
outside the house, where it belongs.
When shards of glass did interfere,
and there she stood, amid the songs
of happy birds, both far and near.
Thus, at a loss, and lacking tools
she waved to passing motorcars,
though most of them were ancient fools
and on their way to local bars.
But no one stopped except for me.
I had not fixed a leaking tyre
in sixty years and I would be,
dressed as I was in church attire,
a bit hard-pressed to be a knight,
a bicycle technician yet,
though, in a pinch I thought I might
attempt a rescue, not to fret.
Four hours later things looked pleasant.
I put away the tyre pump.
She said 'Though I am just a peasant,
how would you like a piece of rump,
smoked to perfection, and some wine? '
Said she and spread a giant rug,
produced a Napa fifty-nine
and poured some into her big mug.
It was a picnic to remember
we shared some stories, many laughs
it cools right down in late September,
which made her cover up her calves.
Two litres of that old Merlot
can bring results for anyone.
Well, it did paint a rosy glow
on her young face, warmed by the sun.
I feel compelled to tell the story
just as it happened, and no lies,
though to this day, I still am sorry
to tell you that some teenage guys,
who wandered through the countryside
as noisy as that age enjoys.
And there they saw a happy bride,
something exciting for the boys.
By then we'd woken from our snooze,
sat up and had a fit of laughter.
We'd slept four hours in our shoes
and felt as if a morning after
had happened here, on the green grass.
I told her that at eighty-nine,
and after drinking wine at mass
it would be prudent to decline
when meeting damsels in distress.
Deep in myself occurred the thought
that I was one who would confess
all of my sins at church, I ought
at least have stayed awake
there in the sun and balmy sky.
But then again, for goodness sake
I must admit, I was too shy.
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