It was all a dream!
I used to read Fortune magazine
From rusted-out clunker to presidential limousine
But what’s it all mean without a Nubiana Queen? -Rg2

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My Sweet Love,

I needed an ally; a protector. I needed a secret agent with a potent mind-gun. A public agent, I wanted, to help me navigate this thing called life, negotiate this thing regarded by many as love.

Prior to meeting you, the other women I’d dated all described me as aloof, emotionally distant, unwilling to come ashore from the far-away ocean drift they saw my life as. 

And then I met you–anchors aweigh no more.

How was it that you were safe harbor, woman? Have we defied the odds? Some would say as much. Others say odds have nothing to do with . . . destiny. We both were acting on instinct. Impulse. But your emotional intelligence was spot on, no?

And mine wasn’t too shabby either.

I guess at some point a ship adrift must eventually come ashore. You made certain my anchor reached the ocean floor, as only you could. 

I reached safe harbor. I thank you for providing the perfect dock.

And I’d like to express my appreciation this evening in commemoration. 

The Service will escort you tonight to the vessel I had commissioned by a group of veteran shipbuilders. I thought of the ideal name: The Queen Michelle. We’ll christen it just before a private dinner featuring your favorite jazz quartet. 

Moonlight gazing aboardship awaits us. And a PHF surprise that I’ll let go unhinted for the time being.

A private celebration of safe harbor. 

The occasion? 

Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.

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Pamper the woman and forever is her Romance. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Image: © Mrs. O.