We are certainly in a pickle;
The essence of eventuality.
No need to muddle in the affairs of others,
No need to inflate the otherwise fickle.
You slew my slowly beating heart
with a glance, a toast, a gasconade!
But there were treason-s waiting in the wings
With anecdotes and soliloquies most tart.
Still Love will always hope to abscond
the brannigans we drum up in premature spite.
The difficulty in bickering with those we Love
Leaves us far too much time to retort and respond.
* To a world of Husbands: Just Shut Up.