His Broken Wooden Chair.
Perhaps, those little exchange of words passed straight through my bloodstream, Kind of amusing and compassionate like the one in my dream. Perhaps, entranced by the crippling malady that I endured, Kind of a wrecked wooden chair like the one he couldn't have adored. Perhaps, my modesty he liked or maybe the genuine idea of being in love with a disabled woman, Kind of magical like the one exact I wanted to be my man. While holding hands, "I would like to keep fixing this broken wooden chair for the rest of my life." He knelt down on his knees and asked, "Will you Cooperate with me and be my wife?" Spoke for one more time while we exchanged rings, With his last vows being, "You are the wind beneath my wings."