Moonlight Rose On A Steamer To Old New York

Moonlight Rose On A Steamer To Old New York
 
     Me and my Moonlight Rose were on a steamer to Old New York. We were reliving an era of rose-scented boudoir steam. We were circling back to the gilded rose of our once upon a time romance in haute couture. And her perfume made me truly believe that everything that glitters is the gold standard of love both new and old.  
     She was my born again gilded rose in haute couture. And I knew this time we would find that rose we lost somewhere back in the den of Gatsby’s again. Art Deco couldn’t roar like my eternal rose. Our old soul love was no antique sitting on a shelf in some store ready to be bought. Ours was priceless as a Fabergé Egg sealed in a glass case in a museum forever. And like that jeweled egg we were going to make it this time.  
     So, I had the engagement ring in my coat pocket. As I reached for it her smile was as big as Texas. Until then doubts lingered in my mind like the fog off the coast of Nova Scotia. But the sun of her grin told me this was the time and I handed her the little box. She took it in those dainty hands that I loved and opened it. Her lips turned into a magic O and she breathed deep as a woman on the verge of something unspeakably wonderful.  
     “Give me your hand in marriage,” I say.
     “I almost did back in London. But you never proposed.”
     “My approach to life back then was caution. I felt between your weeping spells and my empty wallet the time wasn’t ripe.”
     “What makes now different? Has the passage of a week been enough hours to pop the cork on the bottle of our love? Surely, it takes at least years.”
    “Little darling, if my reticence back in that hotel room made you think my heart wasn’t in it well, that was my big mistake. I can understand your incredulity now.”
    “Oh honey, I am just airing out my thoughts. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t take you up on the deal of my century. Of course, I was always ready to take you up on a lifetime of love.”
     She whispered yes so softly it was almost inaudible. When she caught her breath, she spoke loud as a tigress.  
    I asked her, “The ship’s captain is licensed to marry. Shall he do the honors?”
    “Darling I am not religious but I grew up in a church. I want a priest to marry us. What God joins let no man or woman tear apart.”
     “I haven’t been to church in years but sealing the deal before a priest sounds like hitting the jackpot to me.”  
     “This isn’t a poker game or the lottery but I can appreciate your feeling of getting lucky since I feel the same way about winning your heart. But I don’t have a gold band for your finger. What will you wear to show you are mine?”  
     “I happen to be the proud inheritor of the band of gold my pop wore for Mom. It is in my trunk. And I will fish it out.”  
     “Would it be proper to kiss before marriage? My Mom always taught me to save myself for marriage.”
     “I reckon we can smooch before signing the marital contract. We don’t need a legal document to prove our love.”
     “Well, then let’s have a smooch fest right here in this cabin. Things got way too monastic for me lately. I need some good old fashioned male attention to keep this old girl in shape for a future of sharing the bed with you.”
     “Not just any male will fill the bill, I hope. We aren’t interchangeable.”
     “One size could never fit all in my book. You are the only bell for my choir. Let me give you some sugar before midnight rolls around.”
     “It will be a New Year at the witching hour. Let’s bring it in with some fireworks.”
     “They don’t have those firecrackers on this ship for safety reasons. But the only fire ours will set is in our hearts.”
      “You little devil, I hope you aren’t just building me up for a roll in the berth. This ole gal’s heart has been broken too many times. I need some real loving from my man.”  
     “The only kind of loving I have to give is guaranteed for a lifetime or your money back.”
     “Then let’s put the do not disturb sign on our door. Don’t want to give the steward an eyeful.”
     “We’ll be newlyweds at heart before 1939 is ushered in.”
     “Until our last breath.”
     “Yes, my love, and we’ll live in a ritzy house in Manhattan.”
     “Honey, a brownstone in Brooklyn or even a cold water flat in Harlem with you would suit this gal just fine. Just you and me and a growing kid to give us big grocery bills.”
     “I’ll be the maître de’ at a five-star restaurant and we’ll live in style. The Ritz will be our new address.”
     “You think by our fiftieth, Jack?”
    “Before, my beloved.”
    “Before we need hearing aids so you can eavesdrop on me gossiping over the phone with my girlfriends?”
     “Even before we need dentures to chew the fat pardon the pun. There is a bottle of merlot waiting in my grip just for us.”
     “Well, I am one proud Donna. Be a gentleman and pour me a glass.”
     We sidled up on the bed. Rosy held her fist up to my face. “Hey sweetie, is this a real diamond?”
     I replied, “That stone isn’t just a mighty fine looking rock. I spent the winnings of my last poker game on it.”
     She said, “You could have spent that money on booze. But instead, you’re giving me a steamer trunk of memories. Now pucker up you little devil and kiss your bride properly on the lips.”
     And we kissed like butter melting until the captain of our ship spoke over the loud speakers saying there were whales visible off the port side. But we had our own miracle of nature going on in our cabin and had no need to see the giants of the sea at the moment.
     We kissed like virgins just discovering the magic of love with Billie Holiday’s voice moaning on the victrola with the lamp dimmed and all the rumors of war on the radio could wait until after we brought in the New Year with enough sugar for all the tea in China.