I traded a girl two apples for an orange. I hate citrus but she was beautiful. As lovers we were rotten -- this was before the sexual revolution -- and we only necked and pawed, "Don't write below the lines!" But now she's traded that child's red mitten I only touched for a stovepipe hat, four children, and a milkman husband. Soon I learn there will be no milkmen and she'll want to trade again. Stop. I won't take a giant Marianas trench for two red apples. You've had your orange now lie in it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THREE GATES [OF GOLD] by ELIZABETH DAYTON WINTER SONG by LUDWIG HENRICH CHRISTOPH HOLTY MY MOTHER'S GARDEN by ALICE E. ALLEN WITH MY FANCY by KONSTANTIN DMITRIYEVICH BALMONT AFTER THEATER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |