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The Perfect Crime
You’d never guess her secret from her smile Reflection of her brand new wedding ring The child she would deliver in a while Would be the old man’s final taste of spring Of course his family promptly lawyered-up To stop this May-December love affair But still the groom, near eighty, raised his cup To toast his pregnant wife and unborn heir And while the bride and groom were at the Ball The father of the baby watched TV And waited for her whispered nightly call To tell him just how rich she thought they’d be In less than thirty days the old man died The pearly gates of earth had opened wide
I hope this is a sonnet. Anyway, if it is, then I got my rules right--and if it isn't, well, (gulp) I hope you enjoy the story anyway.
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