She reads poetry.
How nourishing for the soul it is,
To ponder those fine phrases...
And how clever she must be,
To understand such deep meaning.
It must be so stimulating to be her friend.
She memorizes poems.
She and some lucky fellow
Will have plenty to talk about at the dinner table.
And if they ever have children
(Do you think they ever will?)
They will learn to read at an early age.
She writes poetry.
Wait a minute!
How did she turn out to be so...well...
I just feel sorry for her poor husband.
How can she be a good wife,
With her head in the clouds
And her nose in a book,
Writing all those poems?
She watches documentaries about artists in Paris
And leaves peeled potatoes on the kitchen counter.
Then she writes a poem about the time she forgot to finish cooking dinner.
I suppose we should be thankful that she never had children.
© Judith C Evans 2012
Shared with The Think Tank Thursday #100 at Poets United. Inspired by this quotation by Tim Burton: "One person's crazyiness is another person's reality."