Saturday, May 09, 2015

The Woodcutter’s Chopper.

The Woodcutter’s Chopper.





Sharon was different now,
A woman in all her glory,
Since the time she lost
Her chopper, and definitely since
That time she gained her smile.
What good was a chopper now?
The manliness of Barry’s tool,
His woodcutters chopper now gone
She could smile as only a woman
Can. A sense of freedom from
The endless days of depression,
Of feelings of angst and regret,
A whole lifetime of sorrow,
Nearly all had left her then,
When Barry found her new
Tomorrow, not one to borrow
But keep her floating high.

Held as one who’s tender,
Soft, gentle, not so regimental,
Glowing with the light of life,
Perhaps now, even a wife?
Stitches heal the wounds of time,
Some enchanted romantic nature
Yet alive to find and mind.
Bruised a little by the apple
So obvious Barry’s former life.
Gruelling days in contemplation,
To be a butterfly of nature,
Or stay as the brute force
Of mans domination, and all
 The mental examination. Was
Sharon’s task, too much to ask?
Upon the table, she arose
To become someone very able.

Laughter in the face of hate,
Discrimination and segregation,
Gone now far away, some say,
To herald how demand for
Choice has altered even here
Her voice and style. The deep
Tone of Barry’s quest to know,
What happiness changing this
Could ultimately then bestow,
And field the sweet release,
Sharon took to live at peace.
Gobsmacked by physique, the
High lines and boobs, yes great
Big boobs, hoorah…… Barry was
Gone when Sharon came, and
Well, now even the grooming,
Would never ever be the same….