Last night we had an argument,
You cannot tell me why.
And something that you said posthaste,
Caused me to turn and cry.

Immediately I felt remorse
For what I'd done to you,
But I did not apologize
For what I'd put you through.

Each time thereafter either spoke,
We answered slightly terse,
And soon, not wanting to provoke,
We choose not to converse.

Long after we had gone to bed
And never speaking much,
You knew that I were sorry
By your tender loving touch.

Your touch said you were sorry
That we'd had our little fight.
You did not want this barrier
To last throughout the night.

Well dear, I am the one so wrong
To let my temper rise.
I love you more than you can know
And I, apologize.

When I'm getting ready to reason with a man, I spend one-third of my time thinking about myself and what I am going to say -- and two-thirds thinking about him and what he is going to say

Labels: S.H.M.I.L.Y