Marriage Not Into a School Mate
I could bet it isn’t fate
That in love we aren’t great
Don’t unions consummate
Nor think we should be straight
With our flirts, until it’s late …
Preferably kissing them at Satan’s rate
Our rendezvous, every front gate
To tomorrow fix a fresh date
Hours hurrying rather than wait
But ten years later leave with hate …
“Marriage, not to a school mate,
Except for the satisfied with an old weight”
The drama is an often-repeating bait.
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