Frigid

 

Formal performances left me cold

My feet stuck in a cement mold

Stuttering nervous unpleasant they

Had me ready to take flight, run away

The one saving grace in this mess

My darling in her bright silver dress

Nonconformist to the enth degree

One look, filled with mirth I was free

To give the speech expected of me

No this was certainly not my cup of tea

She made it worthwhile filled me with glee

When I was finished, we toasted with Chablis

 

 

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