Well, Dear: Poem by Francie Lynch

I knew I would be right.
We believed it to be true.
But

(and bear with me here
As I do my male analogizing) ,

It's the third period;
The fourth quarter;
Fifth set;
Tenth round;
Last round;
Last lap

(can you think of another
to describe my situation) .

In thirteen hundred weeks
I'll give you confirmation
And you'll have an epiphany.
You'll have to agree

(sorry about this next part)

I was in the game 'til
The fat lady sang,
'Hallelujah.'

I told you I'd love you til I died,
But you threw in the towel.
And I don't even get to say
'I told you so.'

Love, Always