"Life is not always fair. Sometimes you
get a splinter even sliding down a rainbow."
-Terri Guillemets
............................
I saw her last week,
That sweet Marguerite.
She was brushing her hair
Down on Appleton Street,
And oh, what a woman,
So fine, so petite.
But the things that she told me
I cannot repeat.
She was remarkably blunt,
No, not very discreet,
With red bows in her hair,
And just a touch of conceit.
She smiled demurely,
Deceptively sweet.
And the things that the told me
I cannot repeat.
I do not understand
Half the things that she said.
And I really don't know
Why she wanted me dead.
Perhaps I was too short,
Or too fat, bald
Or tall?
Because she didn't like me.
She didn't like me at all.
She had an air about her
That was shrouded in pride.
With a beautiful smile
Two thousand yards wide.
And a glow in her eyes
That rather mimiced a treat.
But the things that she told me
I cannot repeat.
What could I have said?
What could I have done?
Oh, I tried and I tried,
But I could not think of one
Single thing that I would,
Could have done, thought, or said,
That might have explained
Why she wanted me dead.
Well, I went on my way.
What else could I do?
She said what was on her mind,
And she had every right to.
She spoke each word with precision,
Quite succinct and complete.
And the things that she told me
I cannot repeat.
I saw her today
As I stepped through the door
Of the Thursby & Thursby
Five and Twenty Cent Store.
She was terrifyingly cheerful,
The Lovely Marguerite
But the things that she told me
I cannot repeat.
Copyright © 2008 Richard D. Remler
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Magnificent, truly! Your flowing rhyme and meter added to the reader's anticipation and kept the mood just right.