The Fickle Finger Of Fate Poem by Charles Hancock

It was in a coffee bar, late one night
When we met by chance
On a crisp January night
Who knew it would turn into a romance

She asked me to pass the sugar
A request that struck up hours of talk
She was a real looker
It was hard for me not to gawk

She eventually winked and bit her lip
Then asserted in a Southern drawl
That we should take a road trip
Down south for Mardi Gras

After a while, she looked me in the eye
And said she wanted to be my devil
I wasn't sure how to reply
She gave me the feeling she was trouble

Then she spoke a calming contradiction
By saying she was willing to be my angel
And told me that I would be her addiction
Then affirmed that she's always faithful

It's funny how a little cold weather
And the fickle finger of fate
Can bring two people together
Now we're waiting on her due date