Keeping Up Poem by John Molloy

To see her walk is near enough
to see her as she is,
A flowing stream that glides along
as fast as as lives;

On sure a foot, 'neath such a hip
she'll slow indeed to search,
An' steal a glance to wounder on
the glory of her perch;

For it's up a step I have to keep
whenever she's around,
Just as now along the streets
we never seem to pound;

And slow aback I just might do
but only me to know,
The joy I hold in being downwind
to savour grace and flow.

Along this breezy shiny road
I blossom in her bloom,
To stamp the viewers wishful eye
we pass on in our tune;

As talk to me again she will
and honor me with pride,
For I could never hit the mark
of trying not to hide.

It's all of her to everyone
but specially to me -
Nothing kept or taken back;
what I can never be.

Atleast that's what I seem to feel
until I realize,
The carefree speedy lass I love
is more than earthly wise;

As in her bashful lusty gaze
she steals as I a frame,
Never told, just to hold
the moments of our fame.

And so it is in April's air,
the Sun it sets in shame,
As home we head with beating hearths
to give but never claim.