January 29, 2008|By E.L. SYVERSON

You're the catch to my perfect scheme,
the rock to my window at night
and the weight to my hot air balloon.
The stoke for my fire.
You're the fork in my path,
the Robert to my Frost,
the Thoreau to my Walden.
You're the cherry on the cigarette I don't smoke,
the milk in my cereal,
the sugar in my coffee,
and the balance in my breakfast.
You're the roadie to my rock band.
You're the pen to my paper.
What was Margaret Dumont to the Marx Brothers?
Laurel to Hardy?
Hunnicut to Hawkeye?
Luigi to Mario?
Thanks for being the word in my blanks.

The Herald-Mail Articles