From a glass of Cote du Rhone,

Stemmed from your place of birth,

Or a framboise tart –

Patisserie delights.

The taste of salads

And hummus garlic that stains your breath

That I so dread to kiss -

I know you have to put up with my nicotine lips,

But it’s me that does all the moaning.

So easily pleased by life’s gentle moments,

When for me it isn’t enough to savour,

As you rest contented by 10.30pm,

Even on a holiday.

I wish I could sleep so easy.

You have so much to give,

I did so too for a time,

But age and lifestyle has rusted my charms,

Yet you go on giving,

while I groan about living,

Without whims and needs.

You’re happy with your jewellery gifts,

Medium priced.

You’re happy with family and fraternity,

And sweet conversation,

Black tea and cakes.

You don’t need highs

And you love the quality of champagne as a treat,

Or the English ale and curry,

But you’re a lightweight,

While I try to get higher than a spire

Or crash down with sombre nerve.

You keep positive

And enjoy life for what it is and what you make it.

I wonder what you see in me.

I suppose opposites attract for real

According to univseral laws.

You seek hot love and passion

Of something I once gave,

And never went astray to find it, (I hope)

Unlike myself,

Who now has sadly lost it.

I wonder if you will still feel the same way about me

When I droop past 50, (not far to go),

When I can’t afford Viagra.

Perhaps it’s French resolve and

J’nai se qua.

So easily pleased by so little.

I’m lost trying to figure it out.

And now you threaten as you reach 40

That you will make me sweat

For my crimes

And wants and needs,

As you go crazy

Following suppressed dreams.

Will you really follow through though –

You that is so easily pleased?

In some ways I want to dare you,

But secretly I’m worried as hell.