For four consecutive nights
Right on the cusp of sleep
I have been gifted a poem about lemonade
Not a poem about any just old lemonade mind you
But a poem, about the lemonade that you bought me
Not being diet lemonade but full sugar lemonade
Of course it isn’t really a poem about lemonade
More it is a poem
About what I couldn't and what I shouldn’t do
Indeed I did have one line, fairly early on:
I couldn’t do what I shouldn’t do
But I could not keep that, for it’s just not true, is it
Not for me, not for you, not for the whole wide world
None of us actually are made of such stuff
As to be able to say, and to deliver on:
I couldn’t do what I shouldn’t do
I couldn’t do what I shouldn’t do
I couldn’t do what I shouldn’t do
And with that mantra, the floodgates opened
All those things I shouldn’t do I wanted to speak of
To shine a light onto all of my secretive suggestions
But I shouldn’t do that now should I
So I couldn’t do that could I
Except of course if we had an amnesty
A declaration that no upset would be caused
That no recriminations would be effected
That you too couldn’t do what you shouldn’t do
