The Old Maid's Song

The Old Maid’s Song

The blasphemy of this

Contentious little girl

Border lined effrontery.

Her mouth spewed colors

Of red and black and orange,

Painting a violent picture

With only words to see.

All the townsfolk,

Within a mile,

Had their mouths agape.

Their incredulous mindsets

Had now changed.

She had beguiled the town’s

Most prominent man

With a slip of the tongue

And a rapier’s wit.

She cleaved to him

Rising like a firework,

Only to inevitably fall

In a shower of sparks.

Yet still she played off of his

Prodigious status

In the quaint little town.

She tantalized him with

Promises of power and prestige.

He did not notice the sibilance

That accompanied her words.

To the rest of the town

Her words sounded

Like a snake hissing.

Our very own evil

In the Garden of Eden.

Our conciliatory ways were over.

We would tar and feather

And chase her down the tracks.

Okay not really but close.

We would let loose our own words

Of colors like

Fuscia and violet and indigo.

Words to make her skin crawl

And her stomach turn.

Words to make her think twice.

So we will make our plan of action

And implement it in the dark of night.

To make her disappear

Before the light of dawn breaks.