Sweet Things

Remember, sweet things, our first Valentine.
One if by Land, Two if by Sea, the Village.
Your dress severely wounded by red wine.
The busboy rushing to contain the spillage.

Beef Wellington, their signatory dish,
and I was merely going to the loo.
All I could think was "should have gotten fish";
that wine nearly became our Waterloo.

But you, you laughed it off, and then you whispered:
"it's coming off soon, anyway, you dolt",
and I, a tomcat, neither wise nor whiskered,
sat right back down, struck by a thunderbolt,

blood rushing to my head...to finally blurt:
"I'm all for skipping coffee and dessert!"