(with apologies to Tolkien)
All that is gold does not glitter.
Not all those unmarried will moan.
The single and strong need no pity,
Deep souls are content on their own.
No, I don’t share this coupling obsession;
I’ve got poems to write, songs to sing!
My time is my own, and it’s precious –
I won’t be enslaved by a ring.
To the one I think of often
though you’re rarely by my side.
You’ll never be my next of kin
but I’d want you told if I died.
Maybe we’re too independent –
we survive alone quite well –
but when stuff happens, good or bad,
you’re the first one I long to tell.
No, we’ll never be an item
but, ‘significant’ or not,
you’re my intermittent other
and the dearest friend that I’ve got.
Have you ever sat at that table,
at a wedding? You know the one –
full of people without partners,
with traits nobody wants.
The independent women,
who persist in being single,
are never seated with couples
for fear that they might mingle.
The nun who, even in plain clothes,
exudes a faith too strong,
her chastity embarrassing
to those whose faith has gone.
And the widow who strives to be merry,
invited because she’s a friend
but not really wanted at weddings
for she’s living proof – love always ends.
If I should speak to married men,
the looks I get from wives!
Their mouths say ‘Where’s your partner?’
Their eyes ‘Back off – he’s mine!’
But a happy hubby doesn’t stray
and I don’t need to encroach.
Please understand that I’m content,
with no desire to poach.
For both sides of the bed are mine –
oh, I still think sex is fun,
but no man, or woman, owns me
and I answer to no-one.
To live life without compromise,
that supplement, I’ll pay –
to travel where I want to go,
stay where I want to stay.
No, I’m neither old nor bitter,
and I don’t have multiple cats,
so I need no-one’s pity –
I’m single, and fine with that.
Ladies Who Don't Have Time For Lunch 