It has been nearly a year since you died, Kent. Doesn't seem like it. I just happened to notice the date the other day. I know that Sandra and Kyle miss you...
Looked for a sappy poem, decided you wouldn't like it. Thought you might like this one instead...
"O 'Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!
Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?
And whence such fair garments, such prosperi-ty?"
"O didn't you know I'd been ruined?" said she.
"You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks,
Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks;
And now you've gay bracelets and bright feathers three!"
"Yes: that's how we dress when we're ruined," said she.
-"At home in the barton you said 'thee' and 'thou,'
And 'thik oon,' and 'theäs oon,' and 't'other'; but now
Your talking quite fits 'ee for high compa-ny!"
"Some polish is gained with one's ruin," said she.
"Your hands were like paws then, your face blue and bleak
But now I'm bewitched by your delicate cheek,
And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!"
"We never do work when we're ruined," said she.
"You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream,
And you'd sigh, and you'd sock; but at present you seem
To know not of megrims or melancho-ly!"
"True. One's pretty lively when ruined," said she.
"I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown,
And a delicate face, and could strut about Town!"
"My dear a raw country girl, such as you be,
Cannot quite expect that. You ain't ruined," said she.
~ by Thomas Hardy
Too archaic? Maybe this is more your cup of tea:
There once was a maid from Madras
Who possessed a magnificent ass.
Neither round or pink,
As some might think,
It was gray, had long ears and ate grass.
~ Thanks to: Limericks
~ And by the way: the Hardy poem is an old favorite of mine. I went looking and found it here: Poetry OnLine
