In Facebook, women, come and go
Talk about husbands, so and so,
Some rich, with many mistresses
Millions poor, with many stresses
Shared grouses that husband have no time
They are unhappy, for lives out of rhyme
Whether single or widowed, they are all sad
Year by year, age passes by, they are all mad
Happiness is liked catching a slippery mud fish
Impossible to hold too long, but good to wish
Married or single, blessedness knock at their doors
Invite them indoors, eyesores and bedsores, adore
Happiness is not gender or racial, but own choice
Prioritize your voices right, share a beer and rejoice.
Read some gossips in Facebook. T.S. Eliot’s Prufrock line comes naturally. Mind you, the word mistresses contains a million stresses. Running out of topic, the inspiration comes from daily contact.