Brady, you went to school with pretty Kayla.
You’re six feet one, soft spoken and you’re handsome,
and you still haven’t begged her out for dinner?
Rich girl? Easy to marry as a poor girl ”
words wasted on this poet by his father.
I chickened out on marrying a woman
skittish as any mallard hen at sunrise.
Ran off. Brady, I am no friend to weddings,
but I am writing you this curtal sonnet,
confessing my long love for Kayla’s mother
whose real wealth is the merit of her marriage.
All of us know how hard seed is to come by,
and land, harder to come by than a planter.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Against “God Alone”
A few years ago, I had some routine surgery. Something went wrong in recovery. The nurses on the…
The Scandal of Judaism
Christianity has been marked by hostility toward Jews. I won’t rehearse the history. I’ll simply propose a…
Trump’s Civilizational Project
Secretary of State Marco Rubio spoke at the recent Munich Security Conference. Last year, Vice President JD…
