In a silly slight of hand she unraveled
A rather cruel joke.
Why would you laugh at innocence?
The sun sets on her ample curls
I stare ahead
Everything boils down to a harshness that bleeds my heart.
She laughed at my wit
I shudder now
My womanly instincts are seldom wrong:
Either I too am cruel
Or the naive fool,
Useless even to attempt to find out.
I lower my eyes, I still find her there
It's a sinking feeling, really,
A wretched descent before my once-admiring eyes.
I'd rather laugh with joy, or cry out of concern
I'd rather be foolish and naive.