Monday, May 28, 2012

In A Nutshell

She’d not have had to look my way with eyes like anagrams
her brow had told me quite enough, her stance had added some
as, though her words sprung forth as if a drove of newborn lambs
her aura stated lioness, a breast most worrisome  

I’d not, I’d said, been out all night, with wenches by the score
I’d only hastened riverside to pen a poem or two
Then she, so sweetly I might add, said “who’s your latest whore”
I said “I’ve not the time for one, I’ve far too much to do.”

She said “you’re lying, I can see right through your thin disguise”
I groaned as now she’d plucked my strings, as if it were her place
Through gritted teeth I said “look here, just what do you surmise?”
She said “you’re like your father, you’re the essence of disgrace”

The thought of just unloading flashed before me in my rage
I was a young man after all, and boys are prone to shout
But I had come to recognize the sickness in this stage
and I knew what mom’s spiteful accusations were about

It wasn’t but a week before the doctors were involved
A few more days of censure was the only price I’d paid
And once I’d had a moment’s peace, her actions were absolved
It’s not that I’d dissolved my pique, but more, it’s been mislaid

1 comment:

  1. Children should never have to deal with such things.