Luckiest Man

We loved that girls would paint their toes,

Four brothers we; and no-one knows-
How ladies figured out the way,
To turn our heads; each every day.

The obvious is that fine form,
It makes no difference what the norm,
You girls to us a mystery,
And we were smitten, “Yes, Siree!”

When I was just a lad of five,
In kindergarten girls would strive,
To get some boy to play the “Dad”,
While they played “house”, or they’d be sad.

The boys would take some ball outside,
They’d kick and catch, and run and slide,
They wanted me with them to roam,
I’d had enough of boys at home.

So I was just your willing sort,
And, with the girls I would cavort,
The boys were sad, Yes, sad for me,
I stayed inside quite happily.

Now to this day my head will rush,

When my wife simply puts on blush,
I have my girl; and I’m her fan,
And, this old world’s luckiest man!


Peter Lowell Paulson
April 4, 2012