THEY TOLD ME . . . . .

They told me not to play with the gypsies in the wood,
I always obeyed instructions, requests, if I could,
warnings paramount, so beware the ides of march,
dimensions, Cleopatra only just made it under the arch.

I prepare, key to all things, I'm ready to fight,
there you are, framed beautifully in dappled sunlight,
pistols or swords presented nicely in a velvet case,
we stand back to back, pace ahead, return to base.

They told me I would miss you and you miss me,
still alive, sincerely yours, as only a kiss could be,
I was glad I listened to you giving me direction,
wise words delivered, resting on a soft cushion.

I didn't always believe but sometimes asked for a tow,
your smiling face compassionate, saying: 'I told you so!'