Lunch at La Veranda

I held onto my wide-brimmed black hat,

As the wind would blow it away;

When one fine Spring day he picked me up,

All was light and gay.

He drove me to La Veranda,

We coaxed along the way;

We nibbled on antipasti,

And sipped on Chardonnay.

The air was filtered with sweetness and delight,

Everything was new and bright;

Laughter diffused the nervousness,

For which I must confess, I had been under much duress.

The mood was innocent,

Like a baby at its mother’s breast;

Lunch went on, but we knew not,

Of the food, or waiter, or waitress.

A song we wrote; we were remote,

To everyone else we were blind;

In our cocoon of time,

All was a fantasy sublime.

And of those dreams from which sprang,

Our longing to caress;

We did manage to make come true,

Two months of happiness.