John F. McCullagh
She wished me Love
I remember, when I was young,
Gloria Lynne and this song she sung,
She sang with perfect pitch:
I wish you Love.”
It was a light Blues serenade,
A song my older sisters played.
As I would sip my Lemonade
She wished me love.
Now that heart of hers,
so full of Love
Has become one
with Him above.
So, with regrets,
As fate abets,
She’s been set free
Yet on a certain day in Spring
If I should chance to hear
a bluebird sing.
I may recall
That, after all,
She wished me Love.
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