The Witch in her great wit, did grate on us a whit
As we did lament the unfair way the world was knit
We asked her then to kindly, please cast the fateful bones
To show how we might make them, that oppressed us, atone.
When with no wealth or weight,
they regard contributions we do make.
Never vest our opinions with a voice,
heeded not, regarding any choice.
The crone did crouch then and croon
Reading our ruin in the runes
Portentious prophecy parlayed
with each dire prediction made.
She foretold the Chalice and the Blade
growing ever more the same.
What way does justice weigh
when nothing lies on the swinging plates.
When polarities centralize,
And progeny is synthesized.
What then may tap deep in the soul
with no breathless differences to extoll?
Creation strikes a monotone
while only shades of gray play the Hippodrome.
We will not recall the way to celebrate
and the dirvish will whirl out of the gate.
Our looking glass will reflect the very same
image as it does to our mate or date.
We will suffer a strange yearning to yearn,
craving not to gratify, but to anticipate.
What joy lies in a kiss
marked by a monochromatic sameness of the lips.
Misinterpreting an old wive's tale,
Its precautionary note does not prevail
Apples and Oranges cannot be compared
There's no flow chart to be prepared
Thier intrinsic qualities are not shared
So value difference should not be declared
But those fruits to whom we'd always been devoted
Showed no concern that we felt moded.
From our fragrant citrus-ness place
Which apples had forgotten to appreciate
We saw those apples getting ala mode
and so we felt cheated and we felt owed
So we abandoned the ways of orange zest
and declared ourselves capable of apple-ness
We could not see the time ahead
when the zest of orange-ness was dead
Then the little fruit-lings we did breed
Had no one present to teach them a creed
Their lonely latch-key hearts felt great hollowness and need.
No one taught them otherwise, so they filled their empty up with greed.
The crooning crone finally paused
Expecting the epiphanies in ooo's and aaahhh's
But we had grievances to vet
So we proceeded to become Suffragettes
Never realizing the lofty power we already had
We left our pedastals and stepped down with man
It should have been obvious, I suppose.
That we were shorter standing toe to toe.
If only we had listened to the crone drone.
Perhaps now our children wouldn't be at home alone.
Now when we are faced with comparing fruits,
In hind-sight the point is sadly moot.
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Dee
