She Said
“Ice Cream by the quart
and an aged Tawny Port
mellows the loss of a dream.
But I’ve depleted petty cash
for a lovely satin sash,
So I’m left with cookies and cream.
But cookies and cream
won’t restore my dream
and a good cry would do me much better.
But I can’t find the right place,
That anonymous space
For my cheeks to become a lot wetter.”
Well, I thought of what she said
As I tossed it, in my head,
And it rolled around in my brain.
“The solution,” said I,
“you need a safe place to cry,
and the answer is out in the rain.”
So off we went,
two friends half spent,
with ice cream and Chardonnay.
Yes, out we did go,
and the tears, they did flow,
then we got drunk as skunks, I must say.
D. Thurmond / JEFalcon
11-27-2021
I overheard a conversation and this poem was born. But I am a male and may not have gotten her shoes on the right feet. How did I do, Ladies?
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