‘Now dad, don’t buy me dresses anymore,’
She said, hands on her hips and in stern voice;
‘The paper says I must even the score,
And I should be fair treated like the boys;
I want to wear stiff britches, just like lads,
And drink and smoke and cuss like most men do;
I want to laugh, sing and never more be sad,
I want their pomp, their pride, their privilege too.’
She seemed to court derision in her stance,
But I disarmed her with a simple smile;
‘Do you recall when mom and I would dance,
And will you let me walk you down the aisle?’
Sown seeds of discontent, I understand;
Must beauty now become this beast called man?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.