When she was born she cried;
muttered "mama" in mommy's arms;
got to her feet and walked at ease;
had a good time with the young school mates.
Her florid skirt, keeping the girls amicable,
gathered more friendships from the watchful boys;
her overnight talk with parents won reputation
of pliant daughter who was thoughtful as well;
her alluring shape paralleling with her face
grabbed hold of the men's hearts but not their vows;
her decent manner, flaming lips,
and other virtues vouchsafed her a solid career.
Her profuse income satiated the family, which encouraged her
to build another. A nice, wealthy guy appeared aptly on this time;
he promised a gorgeous future and something nearer: huge diamond ring,
Porsche, house with garden and pool, and, more importantly, a brilliant child.
He was a good husband: handsome, hardworking, family man, spending time
with the child, playing with him, not forgetting to fuck his wife, and somebody
else's once in a while to confirm his love and his wife's via apology and
  forgiveness.
His wife was a good wife, taking care of all domestic business, performing
  excellent
sex on bed (or sofa), bearing one child after another (three boys and one
  girl),
quite successful; not to mention brining them up, offering them great
  education,
making them owners of big houses and positions; or passing down her wisdom
so that they learned how they could enlarge their family; wearing gray wires
doing embroidery nodding under good light counting the numbers
So they held a fine funeral when the time came
according to the custom, sorrows properly shed
upon that reverend woman whose epigraph read
"A paragon for her sex."