He sang as do lovers do,
a-yodeling with flair.
A verse about her smiling eyes
when spring was in the air.
She lured by his melodies;
the charming summer boy.
She let fall her handkerchief;
he found it to her joy.
He posed beneath her window,
a-crooning serenades.
She clambered down the knotted sheets
in autumn’s escapades.
Lamented, her when parting
for cold is winter’s reign.
Though he still keeps her handkerchief,
he never sang again.
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Author:
Tony Grannell (
Offline) - Published: November 7th, 2026 16:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments2
Reminds m of birds and their calls and songs. Warbling always got to me even from childhood. So much better than cawing🙏🏻🕊️
When her Irish eyes were smiling. 💚
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