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Poem

Like every woman would hope and wait,
She so waits yet for someone true,
Beyond her prime but bears and stays,
Lone, thus keen to own a man so soon.
Soliloquising at every dusk,
That 31s deserves no lesser men
Than them that girls would rather husk; 
“Blokes rugged and intelligent”.
Calm (as would the turtle be) at home,
She’s no different while away,
Works e’er like the dial on a phone,
While at night good gossip is her play.
On every date that held her hoping high
To bear a gent like in her fantasies,
A let down did never make her cry,
She was sure that one would please.
Neither loose nor the virago,
Nor responsive to careless men,
Pretty and true like the rainbow,
On the day it’s her turn to wed.

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