Time Heals All
The bastard stole my wife! Has he no shame?
A toady little swine at school, today,
Though bigger, richer, he is just the same -
And all it took was third-rate Beaujolais!
I had to buy her flowers, jewels, gin,
Expensive restaurants, Covent Garden (twice),
Before she’d entertain the thought of “sin”,
Yet he seduced her at a bargain price,
No doubt assisted by those snorts of coke.
But time heals all, they say. I called him first:
“I’m sure that you’re a decent sort of bloke;
Let’s mend our friendship while we quench our thirst.”
I shook his hand, apparently sincere,
Then, when his back was turned, peed in his beer.
If you have any comments on this poem, Brian Allgar would be
pleased to hear from you.