Like broken toys,
Are scattered on her bitter path.
She prays the next one
Will be a keeper
And prays she'll find him
Before her glamor's gone.
It already takes her
Twice as long to look her best,
With half the results.
She goes to church
And prays and preys.
She grabs him and kisses him and brazenly says to him, "I have some sacrificial meat. Today I kept my vows. That's why I came to meet you. Eagerly, I looked for you, and I've found you. I've made my bed, with colored sheets of Egyptian linen.
--Proverbs 7:13-16, God's Word translation
Note to those who aren't detail-oriented: The spelling of the last word of this poem is no accident.
Poem and photo ©2009 James L. Swindle. You may print up to 100 copies, so long as you don't change the text, you include the copyright notice, and you don't sell them.