The Man sitting in the chair...
colourful jacket...funky...
The one you call 'Professor'....
He's not a saint, He's made mistakes..
He's as stubborn as they come,
Pompous,arrogant,ambitious...
Maybe a millionaire...maybe not....
But He's priceless to me.
And while He's there...
please bear in mind,
He'll drive you to despair...
He'll flirt...He'll joke...
He'll smile that perfect smile...
But He'll help...He's generous...
Sweet....
He's totally aware of his faults...
and proud of what he's achieved...
And that makes him so human...
Handle him with care...
But beware,
He's my Muse...Mine only...
So,strange woman,don't you go
stroking his jacketed arm...
Not unless you can be Me,
the one that creates ballads
on Him...
Paws off...
He's priceless to me...