Pedantic Poem

Here I am thinking,
You were nicer to me
When you were pregnant

Now all you do is
Give me a frown,
An abrupt look away

So I urge you,
Become pregnant again,
And walk in through the hallway
On a bright sunny morning
So we can be friends again

Then I can stop kicking myself,
And stop writing pedantic poetry like this,
Quoting the only Lord Byron fragment I remember,
“And must thy lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?*

*Lord Byron, in his “The Isles of Greece”

Raj Karamchedu