The Likelihood of Paris

Words, ironically, lack for any meaning
Until accompanied by actions.
Yours, it seems to me, are now intervening
To induce accustomed reactions,
Deflecting the light from the truth.
You're merely tiding me over,
Ladling syrup on my sweet tooth,
Garnished with a four-leaf clover.
You've already laid out all the best in your plans -
Custom-made clothes, the finest champagne,
Cloudless seaside holidays with even suntans
And romantic sojourns in the rain.
The setting for those wet streets? Need I ask?
Our date book is here to take you to task.

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