Flight Q 124 Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

So, here I sit, drink rhubarb wine
and dream about my Valentine.
She's in New York to see a wizard
the telly showed a great big blizzard.
Meanwhile the wine is warming me
and sets romantic feelings free.
I ponder why my heart still flutters,
my accent-laden voice, it stutters.
And goosebumps occupy my hide
when you are sleeping by my side.
Tonight, the bed caresses Freddy
the cuddly, brown Bavarian Teddy.
And me? I sit here with my wine
and wait for you, my Valentine.