YOU, YOU, YOU
by John T. Baker
You dole your fickle favors out
With frugal grudging hand;
You gird your smile with irony
Suggesting reprimand.

You slice away propriety,
Maintaining that your view
Is sacrosanct and that all truth
Is known alone to you.

You skirt the rim of courtesy,
Leave all your friends dismayed;
Around you blossoms can but wilt                         
And dreams so quickly fade.