Natalie

You were always so picky,

filled with such high expectations.

You went on dates,

said they were lovely,

didn’t return a call.

We never thought you would be

satisfied.

You were always like Jane Austen,

waiting for dashing gentlemen

to arrive on their fine horses.

You wanted charming,

but not cocky.

Intelligent,

but not arrogant.

Caring,

but not clingy.

None of them could be your Mr. Knightly.

Then he rode by,

swooped you up in his arms.

You didn’t reject.

Like Eleanor,

you gave into sense.

For he’s the smile on your lips,

the rhythm to your heart,

the life to your eyes.

Your everlasting happiness.