And So She Chased Hares
Oh to be the heroine of your thorny life.
She of good temper and humour, usefully plain,
there born of a good disposition, a fine wife
she’d make. Have a respectable man, neither poor
nor uncommonly rich, and of excellent health,
and she’d bore him a family – that so she swore.
And when babes came with all their heads, legs and arms,
she played boy’s games, and played with all their boy’s toys.
A fine wife, a fine family, her life so charmed.
But there on the moors at the edge of a moonlit tarn,
that mad woman is chasing grey hares through the thorn.
p.s. Not my secret. Written for dVerse Poets