We must sit here prim and
proper,
As drawing breaths gets ever harder.
Hair neatly coiffed and faces
pale
As dresses sweep by hind’ring
trails
Eyesight blurry, heads grow
dizzy
Yet we must seem never busy
Like flowers wilting to the
still
They slowly try to crush our
will
Always do as husband wishes
Doling out our night-time
kisses
Having babies, one by one
Being a Lady is such great fun
No comments:
Post a Comment