A SUNDAY FOR SATIRISTS
“The whole of this afternoon, for you my friend
To dally among the flowers,
And I shall recall some lyrical verse
For these hours.
Shall I tell about Helen of Troy?”
“No, that’s too commonplace.
How often do wars for the beauty seen
In a maiden’s face?
Shall I serve some tea for us?”
“No, I’d rather not.
The maid is out, and my hands burn
When water runs too hot.”
“Well, what would you like to do
In such a glorious garden, on this day?”
“I guess there’s no use in asking you,
For you’ve nothing of merit to say.”
written 1997
