You probably don't need the reminder.
But now there is something that makes Monday a day to look forward to.
Poetry!
I know you're as excited as I am . . .
The cop was told, “Domestic—umm—commotion.”
What he found was surely wrought with
strong emotion.
There lying on the floor,
All gross and specked with gore,
Was something that would not be termed ‘devotion’!
The body, cold and dead, was lying
prostrate,
A single slug had issued him his checkmate,
His wife had been the one,
She’d shot him with her gun,
Then called the cops. She'd just increased the crime rate.
When the cop arrived and sadly judged the
scene,
It was so much worse than any place he’d
been,
Near the body was a mess,
But when you saw the rest,
You’d have to swear the floor was fresh
and clean.
When
he tried to cross that floor, the gun she raised,
On
the stand, he’d testify her eyes were crazed.
“Please
don’t take another step!”
She said
with force and pep.
All
he thought to do was stare at her, amazed.
Then
later, from his car, he called his Sarge,
He
said, “I know that you put me in charge.”
“But
I can’t arrest her yet,
Her
permission, I can’t get,
And
I have to tell you, man, her gun is large!”
His
Sergeant told him, “Son, you mean to say
That
a single woman stopped your work today?"
Then he added, “If that's true,
Then it makes me very blue,
When
I think she’ll get away with her foul play."
The cop said, "S'not defeat and not goodbye,
I’ll
be able to arrest her by and by.
I just
can’t repeat the sin
That
did her husband in,
I cannot
cross her floor till it is dry."
I have some wonderful friends who are joining in!
