Inevitably

Inevitably,

I must decline

Your proposal forthwith

 

You’re pompous, arrogant,

Far too loud,

Your manners far too strict

 

If I, as wife,

Were made to do

All feminine of tasks

 

Though mockery

Be made of me,

I’d leave your house quite fast

 

And scholars not,

Have writ* of love,

To say a one-way function

 

All write of love,

In poet’s form,

They say it two-directioned

 

And poet though

I may be not,

In mind and embodied soul

 

They fall straight

From my lips:

Such words to tell you no

 

And I entreat

In you, proud sir,

To ask me not again

 

To dance under

You skies, for now,

To dance, it would be shame

 

So hear me now,

You round aged man,

Persist from these dull ways

 

You’ll take me not,

Forever more,

And never in your days

 

*NB: Deliberate use of incorrect spelling for audible effect, and for precise rhythm.

The End

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