by Kathryn Simmonds

The widow will weep for her beau, my dear
While the spring grass continues to grow, my dear

Life’s lengthy or short but it ends when it ends
We arrive and we go and that’s so, my dear.

The elected must govern, the masses must vote
And a man has his price (quid pro quo, my dear)

But God seldom bargains and never in Lent
For he’s too busy fighting the foe, my dear.

The moon eats her heart out again and again
But the rivers just go with the flow, my dear

An earthworm divides well, a country does not
And sometimes a yes becomes no, my dear.

Our wishes all fall down the well with a splash
There are decades of echoes but oh, my dear

Give up what is lost if you can’t fish it back
Just keep walking. And that’s all I know, my dear.