A Woman, With a Bucket

A seed was kept, by a pretty woman, in her pocket As she goes, up and down the stairs, with a bucket For nine long months, she has it, inside her pocket Till she finally lost her strength to carry the bucket When the seed popped up, from her maiden pocket She promised herself, not to let it grow, in a bucket Though, there is still great pain, in her worn pocket She continues, even she’s weak, to carry the bucket To the man of her life, she entrusted him her pocket Till she went broke, nothing left, but just her bucket Worst, the conman planted a seed, inside her pocket He left her, when she has nothing, but only a bucket Times has passed, the woman has gained her pocket Because of a strong-willed mind, to carry the bucket She has a fine young man, the seed, from her pocket He is matured and never felt ashamed, of her bucket When the beloved Romeo learned, of her full pocket He returned with promises, of help, to fill the bucket Too late, his own seed, he had planted, in her pocket Will not accept him, for leaving them, with a bucket No more love for the man, who likes only her pocket Nor, for the man, who left them, because of a bucket Will you pity the man, who has but an empty pocket? Will you pity a woman, who carries her own bucket? Will you hate me, if, I wish not to share my pocket? Will you love me, if, I leave you with only a bucket? Never rush to a person, who minds only your pocket Nor, love a person, who has no guts to hold a bucket For it is not so easy to be a seed, in an empty pocket Nor easy to witness a mother carries a loaded bucket She was a pretty woman, who once had a rich pocket Thou abandoned she gave her son a life, not a bucket