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Upon his cash she’d gloat and feast,
his mind concerned her not the least.
She from his pocket book took note,
he on her beauty hung his coat.
Was this a fair exchange, a beast,
to beauty bound? Affection ceased:
a diamond river b[r]ought her vote
but could not keep his boat afloat.
She from her oath soon sought release
while he was loth her palms to grease,
soon each was at each other’s throat
nor sought to reconcile, emote.
Too bad amoral range should [s]team –
to add a moral strange would seem...
© Jonathan Robin – sonnet written 16 March 2002
Jonathan ROBIN
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