It was always the flip of a coin with you;
It was always the drop of a hat.
It was always the blink of an eye with you;
Always that.
It was sometimes a nod of the head with you;
It was often a stamp of the feet.
At times, it was colder than old age with you,
At times there was too much heat.
It was never the heart of the matter with you,
Nor the heart that did matter, because
It was never the end of the line with you,
Then it was.
I was almost the most I could be for you;
I was barely the nearest, however.
You know I’d have sentenced my service to you,
If you’d asked, forever;
But the luck of the draw was against me with you,
Now the pluck of your drawers is beyond me.
I would like to have parted with hatred of you
But I’ll always remember you fondly.
(At least, how you fondled me.)