Died Sweetly on a FridayA Poem by Jwakefield
Charade was played, and just as well, as the worst of men,
But the game cannot be won, and cheaters can't be beat. Laid them low, and made it so, then never seen again, World melted, then reforged, in your lustful heat. Killed the ancients, bled them out, with nothing but a smile, From across a room of betters, none that could compare. Took the field, and won the day, but the lady's guile, Lost the war but no surprise, as it was not fought fair. Wanted and pursued and wooed, but flew away too fast, Chased, not chaste, and gave away that which was reserved. Diamond encrusted, topaz rusted, left upon the grass, Trampled it, and then asked, "What she hath deserved?" Against these men, your defeat, was all but assured, And so they spied, and then lied, and boys fetched their swords.
© 2013 JwakefieldFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorJwakefieldAboutWV English Lit Major, gearing up for grad school. https://twitter.com/JfWakefield Please feel free to send read requests, I love getting them, and it keeps me from missing new stuff. more..Writing
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