A flower, young and pretty pink
stood where a sailor took his drink.
The sailor was a stocky man
and blocked the wind as big blokes can.
But when his woolen trouser sleeve
slipped down to warm the New Year's Eve
for this small flower, just by chance
it outperformed the best-laid plans.
The drinking spree went on to dawn
then, with a sudden stifled yawn
the sailor waved his calloused hand
and said, 'Hello, my one night stand.'
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-night-stand-7/
