3.09c A True-Tried Italian's Misgivings

Was Jess rightly angered when came the next day,
Recalling the words that Dean did relay
That spoke of a turn so evil and foul!
Did Jess—for a week—sport a still-surly scowl.

And also, another, would wordy skills show:
At giving a lecture was Luke quite the pro.
To get on his case, for missing some hours,
He'd nagged at Jess twice, despite Jess's powers.

As well did the shyness of Rory's mindset
Replay in his mind. Did Jess not forget.
For days, did he worry that she would regress
And turn right away from the kisses of Jess.

As if all those trials just wouldn't suffice
To squeeze Jess's heart in a grip like a vice,
To make matters worse, another thing hurt:
He'd looked everywhere! He'd lost his best shirt!

But, as would the past, to a future, soon slip,
The vice on his heart would lessen its grip.
Did Dean keep a distance and Luke held his tongue.
Less orders were issued, no punches were sprung.

And things had been better with Rory, of late.
It seemed, her esteem, did Jess much more rate.
His hand she had held, as went they through town.
And, as they'd passed Doose's, she'd not dropped it down!

How good her hand felt, he'd dared not let on
As, in front of Doose's, they'd strolled right along.
That Jess had kept cool, the best he was able.
Throughout his excitement, he'd kept his breath stable.

Then, later that week, would she quite publicize
Her feelings for Jess as she gazed in his eyes
While running her hand along Jess's cheek
To circle his neck for, his closeness, to seek.

And then they had kissed, in Andrew's book store.
His kiss had been brief but she'd wanted more!
Though Dean, not a reader, would not see them there,
At least, to the world, she'd shown for Jess care!

Then still, the next day, she'd blown Jess's mind:
A tryst in gazebo she'd led Jess to find.
The kiss wasn't hurried, nor hidden was it.
In fact, of their love, she'd flaunted a bit!

So close to the market their scene had been set,
That Jess had been sure that a show would Dean get.
But Jess didn't care they were out on display;
He only would cherish their sweet matinee.

So, whereas her gestures in public did thrill,
'Twas nothing compared to her private show bill.
In mid of December, though weather was cold,
The warmth of her arms did, Jess, right enfold!

For sev'ral days straight, they came to the dock
To meet in the dusk, her lips to his lock;
To talk about books; to share an embrace.
And when they were chilled, they went to his place.

Though start had been rocky, now Jess was assuaged.
He knew where he stood; felt much less upstaged.
Since Rory decided to close off the rift,
Jess knew that he wanted to get her a gift.

Now giving of gifts was foreign for Jess.
Not oft in his youth did fortune, him, bless
To know someone whom, a gift, did deserve.
So efforts for shopping did Jess oft reserve.

It wasn't as though he placed that much worth
On Christmas or days to mark someone's birth.
He wasn't the sort to get all delighted
To give or receive—for gift's sake excited.

But Christmas was coming and Rory deserved
A gift from her boyfriend, though Jess be unnerved.
So he would keep shopping until he found it:
The gift that, his girlfriend, did truly befit,

Since all of his knowledge was sort of suggestive
That Rory was just the kind of cool festive
Who went for all this: the trappings of Christmas.
(The good meaning though, not the throws of big business.)

So, though the Fates tried with valiant show
Of spinning and weaving to giving veto,
Did Jess vow to finish his task as he'd planned—
And not let plans crumble, like castles of sand.

The stores in the Hollow it seemed, of one mind,
Did stock the same garbage. Of this did he find:
The porcelain ponies and hummels galore
Did make the procedure a right gruesome chore.

But, still, he bucked up and kept up the search—
Although would, his cred, such effort besmirch—
So Jess left a store, he strode down the block
And, in the next door, he went to take stock.

Would Jess, in each store, Associate dodge.
Some items he saw, in motley hodgepodge,
Did seem, though appropriate, rather too sappy.
As time ticked on by, did Jess grow unhappy.

He never did want to call an attention
To how he was feeling. He aimed for retention
Of semblance of secrecy, air of mystique.
And choice of a gift offered too much a peek.

Oh why must a gift be steeped in such meaning?
Why couldn't face value be more a gift's leaning?
His feelings would long for a gift to deny it:
The meaning behind his decision to buy it.

There was one wee bauble that haunted his mind
Since, early that day, he'd chanced it to find.
And, though such a present did tickle his nerves,
His path did move straight, except in the curves.

And that little bauble he made himself purchase
And bade that his nervousness didn't resurface.
The gift was quite perfect, though might it say much.
But no other gift could, such level, touch.

AN: I hope you will consider reviewing my story. Don't be afraid to be blunt or critical. I appreciate all critiques. I can take it.