Handwriting on the Wall for Cherie And so I said to myself - damn, I Am lucky to know to know a woman so fine As to make David sweat and cry Because he lived and loved before her time. Bathsheba had nothing on you, and your Jym Is as rich as a king to have a moment with you. Riddle me this - mene, tekel, whim - What did I do to find a friend so true? You have grace, beauty, charm - a wealth Of anything loved and treasured by rank and file. And yet I treasure your gentle caress, with stealth, Along my ear, a sign of friendship and style. I write this poem to frame in words for you The ineffable friendship I feel for one so true. copyright 30 July 2000 (On her birthday) by Earle B. 'Glas' Durboraw; Birmingham.