Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there
we are creatures of comfort.
