Tantalizing Chronicle of Friendship

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Pork belly fatty and soft

A coveted cut straight from the croft

Sit and enjoy the crispy pork belly roast

And lend your ears to the butcher, the host

An unlikely encounter, cold and befuddling

Quickly melted into a lively clavering

Off they went catching butterflies

Caught none but plenty of delightful cries

Beneath the Darnley Sycamore they meet henceforth

Tales of derring-do never fail to regale

The dame of Kelvingrove Manor in the north

By the simple lad from the Yorkshire Dales

Her words are likened to NSAIDs

Though imperfect some joy they create

Whether he weighs 9 or 19 stone

She wouldn’t mind even if he’s shorter than a scone

The dame’s unassuming

And the lad’s affectionate

Yet, is she temporal and evanescing?

Heart skipped a beat; unanswered questions filled his throbbing head

Days are gloomy and the nights’ frigid

Into the empty sky he stared, devoid of heat

Alone, with glassy eyes he beheld

Care, concern and mirth perfectly meld

Thus ended Part One of an uncertain journey

Peppered with some thorns but glees aplenty

Only the Lord knows if trust will be an issue

So stay tuned for more details to be served to you