The Pairing

Simple, a flair of ease,
Not to much if you please.
Yet give me what I need,
With all haste, with all speed.
A dash of pepper,
Mint also, if you will,
Grind up some fire,
So that her frame you may fill,
Shorten the hair,
For sake of appeal,
Then open the snare,
That this man you may heal.
Eyes must be brown,
Or are they black as the night?
The slightest of frowns,
That the strongest may fright.
Short, but not petite,
Tough, just a little sweet,
Upon seeing her he must gaulk,
His face eschewed in a twist,
And he, unable to talk,
Should understand in her the gist
Of what he see's,
Will bring him to his knees.
Now add some shortening,
Not of the food, but of the mind,
Be she not of intellect string,
But in her heart may he find
A strong will, a firm grip,
A loving gaze, and a steady lip;
The will to keep him in check,
The grip to keep him in respect,
The gaze to keep his own,
And the lip to stop his moan.
That just about does it,
And yet I can think of more,
Add a little spit,
And then see what's in store.
She's got a sad past,
But it's not bound to last,
Her current estate,
Has thrown off her fate,
And I can think of no better pair,
Than she and he, what better flare?
Now leave your glass ball,
Make what you can of this,
Do not these forestall,
Lest between them be no bliss.
And I from afar may watch with ease,
To see how he, and she, each other please.

                          The Pairing, (c) Luke Bennette, August 2012