Anne’s Lament

Anne donned her glove though it was tight;
her cold silk tears impaired the sight
of Lance Sir Long who she had asked
to marry her—she had felt tasked,
yet now her sense completely spurned
(on this day were the tables were turned
  allowing women to propose),
and she entitled, I suppose,
to cry as unrequited love
was compensated by a glove.

Anne flexed her fingers so to slide
a glove on hand, though wounded pride
unleashed emotion like a storm,
(this was a day beyond the norm
  as marriage asked was upside down…)
While struggling, Anne wore a frown
as Lance Sir Long walked off apace;
Anne wondered if the human race
could come up with a better plan
for women to corral a man.


20 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
3-1-20