Her feet beat
To the music of the street.
Perfume sweet,
Makes him weak.
He would die,
For one look from those azure eyes.
Oh for a taste of those ruby red lips,
His heart skips,
As her fingers she slips,
Into his hand.
Breathlessly he waits for her command,
“I needs some grub.
Lets go to pub.
Bloke pays”.
She says,
Employing her feminine ways!
K Morris - Poet 
Nice one!
Thank you Tess! Best. Kevin
You are welcome, Kevin.