I once wrote a poem
about women
Sooner or later they all
change paint hue up on a wall
for no reason
hair color or length
on a whim
rarely to please anyone
but them
They hassle and fret
if their clothes are all wet
or at least now I think they do
I once believed they’re all mean
’till I met a few who were keen
and I thought that I knew
they all love a new shoe
’till I loved one who went barefooted
Caught Barefooted
