White pressed shirt
Striking silk tie
Everyday sings mid July

Your walk is tall, your troubles small
It’s all a front, one giant wall

You depend on her to give you a smile
She’s not your wife
Someone else worthwhile

For what do we give the man with it all?
It’s Christmas, Maybe a mistress to call.

And what do we do to sooth your aching heart?
For it’s what matters most
Don’t want you to fall apart.

So much responsibility placed on your shoulder
Can’t go home, don’t want to hold her

Waiting for time, you make promises with rhyme
To the one who makes your passion shine?

You never fulfill though, only hope to give
And she keeps listening, and she’ll always forgive

At home, oblivious to the life you’ve begun
Your wife kisses you goodnight then tucks in your son.

All is well in the world of everlasting cake
In tact it sits while many bites you take

But, the other two hold cakes made of flour
You have consumed them, using your power.

Laura 12/2001