While strolling through the walkways of our town,
I asked a friend what made him truly mad.
He paused, his smile fading to a frown.
"Hypocrisy. To me, that's pretty bad."
So then I asked, "Whatever do you mean?"
"When someone flirts," he teased, "and swears
I got his point but didn't cause a scene.
Instead, I headed for a shady spot.
"And you?" he pushed. "What percolates
"I'd rather not discuss it," I replied,
And jumped across a puddle full of mud,
Still reeling from the blow he'd dealt my pride.
Then suddenly I spun around and said,
"I HATE when men force friendship into bed!"
If you've any comments on her poem, Jill Williams would be pleased to hear from you.