I Gotta Laugh So I Don'T Cry
A sweet, lonely lady of, perhaps, ninety-two
Stared into my eyes as she nodded her head
Squeezing my hand ever so tightly, she said,
“You’re my kind of man. I suppose you’ll do!”
I’ve been propositioned a few times before
Not more than every widowed man, I suspect,
Elderly widows suffering from benign neglect
But never so obviously at the sanctuary door!
The twinkle in her eyes betrayed her intent
As though she had no time left for idle chatter
She stood tall, and got straight to the matter,
I dared not ask her exactly what she meant.
“So, how about a date?” bluntly, she asked,
Her uninhibited approach left me no place to go
A younger pastor would’ve replied a simple no,
I stammered, stuttered, and stood fully aghast.
I thought she might not remember anything I said
So, I thanked her and said, “I’ll try to find a time.”
For a moment I felt like a pitifully inept mime,
Then, seconds later, I was wishing I were dead.
Written November 14, 2022
Submitted to “Pick-a-Title Vol 33" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Copyright © L Milton Hankins | Year Posted 2022
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