A story of cowardice and its implications

The Confession

There was once an old man named Lee

Who was usually caught drinking a tea,

Each night he would sit upon the rocks

Playing around with his golden locks.

One night I felt drawn to his sound

It came travelling over a mound,

So I swam through the sea to join him;

A good thing since it made me trim.

Anyway, as I clambered over the rock

I suddenly had to breathe and dock,

What I found was a man of about thirty

Who’s clothes were very very dirty.

And although he was playing the flute

With a jumper that was awfully cute,

His eyes were streaming down tears

As if they were from many years of fears.

So I decided to join him for a while

Hoping he’d come up with a good-natured smile,

Instead he shrugged and abruptly said..

My love for Den is still not dead.’

I couldn’t understand what that meant

If anything it left me with a terrible dent,

But I didn’t need to ask him why

His heart briskly said…. ‘Testify.

‘She married my neighbours best friend

Sadly our energies didn’t at all blend,

Because I was born and bread a coward

While she was a girl who’d openly flowered.’

I felt his words were terribly shocking

As if his fate was disdainfully mocking,

Because if one had such a beautiful obsession

Wouldn’t one want to make an enormous confession?

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