How to handle a grenade. A double limerick…
The soldier was waiting. His furlough had ended. He stood at the bus stop, depressed.
Despite the warm welcome and subsequent nights when she’d rested her head on his chest,
Pauline had confessed that she no longer loved him. She’d put her cold heart to the test.
While Skip was away, she had dated some men, and had never turned down a request
To hop into bed.
Her clothes she would shed,
Then willingly spread
Her legs–or give head.
Her heart, like an unpinned grenade, would then burst with desire from deep down in her breast…
And when morning came, she would feel no remorse–and would even refuse to get dressed!
© 2017 David E. Miller
millerswindmill 
Good one, David. Longer than usual, and very well constructed.
The soldiers and their girlfriends, separated by war. An eternal story indeed.
Best wishes, Pete.
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I’m glad you liked the limerick, Pete, which does indeed tell the “eternal story” of lovers separated by war. And you’re right about the length. In fact, the limerick’s lines are so long, they nearly burst through the margins of the text block. Had they done so, they would have sent word-and-letter shrapnel across the entire web page!
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I enjoyed that longer style a lot.
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Poor Skip. It may be an eternal story but I do think Pauline is a bit of a slapper. 🙂
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You have to wonder how many times she “tested” her heart before coming to the conclusion she no longer loved Skip. I think she may have enjoyed it all a bit too much! I also think she’s engaging in potentially risky pursuits, which I would characterize as the perils of Pauline… Thank you, FR, for stopping by. Very much appreciated. — David, Las Vegas
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Her heart Skipped a beat or is that beat a Skip? Had a laugh this morning reading this one 🙂
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Eddy, your comment made me chuckle! I’m glad you enjoyed this rather unusual limerick. Thanks for popping in!
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