Samantha’s Bewitching Secret
She never sent him flowers,
but she thought him the orchid of Eden,
the rose of Miniver.
She never bought him candy,
but she thought him a transcendent trinity of
roman nougat, pecan divinity, and noir chocolate.
She never wrote him a love letter,
but she thought his words the gospel truth,
the poetry of Calliope.
She never wrote about him,
but in every man whose character
was a man of character,
he was there—
making him a man of innumerable incarnations.
Through three spring thaws,
and two winter frosts,
she was his secret admirer,
and he never even knew it.