Blessed is he who knows his limitations.
|Victim of Love|
With pity view the hapless swain
Once Aphrodite’s favor blessed
With promises now sought in vain
Of true love failed to manifest.
Sweet honeyed words his little goose
He labored mighty to ensnare
At dénouement she slipped the noose
And vanished into empty air.
For full three weeks he plied her ear
With sweet entreaties, coos and pleas.
But no reaction did he hear
Save hollow echoes on the breeze.
So churns him now his fevered mind
His last discourses with his prey
Hoping soon that he may find
Some misspoke words that made her stray.
Lush compliments he freely gave
Expensive presents, meals and toys
Of future prospects he would rave
Prosperity’s abundant joys.
Nevermore for her the drudge
Of labor’s tedious routine
Not a finger would she budge
To run her house or keep it clean.
All decisions he would make
No woe or care her life defile
Each blessed day she would awake
With nought to do but make him smile.
And just to keep up her morale
Eternal fealty he’d sworn
His full labors connubial
Once she with kids his home’d adorn.
A little Mary, Mike and Moe
Perhaps a James and Phillip too
Up to a dozen he’d bestow
Before her fertile days were through.
Such rosy vistas did he paint
Of future comforts, games and fun
He could not see a sole complaint
Or worry such that made her run.
Spurned despite his motives, flawless
One night while drinking deep the cup
In bottle depths he found his solace
And vowed the fair sex to give up.
Fickle faithless and unjust
Dames never know just what they want
A victim now of betrayed trust
He’d nevermore be so gallant.
To lofty peaks he'd next repair
Monastic life for him the cure
Amid the clouds and frosty air
he'd ne'r be bothered by Amour.
But as he swilled the final dregs
What strutting past did he espy?
A very shapely pair of legs
In skin-tight skirt above the thigh.
The clouds disperse, His spirit soars
He knows that love cannot be bought.
But money works just fine for whores
You do your best with what you've got!