Times Like These

You can give me a pitchfork,
Stand me beside a woman
I barely know, ask me to
Smile for your work,
And I will not oblige.
I am not up for
Sale, no cause to recreate
My life should be in session.

However, Martha. Margaret.
Mary. Maude. Missy, I
Forget her name, may
Smile for you. And, then again,
Maybe, she won't.
Times like these, we are much
Too busy for shenanigans
And faint resemblances of art.
We are content tilling the land,
Harvesting crops.
But, you wanted to
Paint us with your whimsy
Brushes, eyes bursting & nosy.

So, here we are.
We are at your disposal.
Treat us with respect.
Give us a voice or
Leave us alone.