Listening to the Radio

A young woman, on the radio, sings of crushes
And how love comes and goes.
Heaven knows
She spares no blushes
Regaling me with her affairs.
A song light as air
That passes over where
The party goers play.

It is the tune of this nubile
To which the dancers twirl.
There may be a denial
That this constitutes art.
I, for my part
Find in her voice, a pleasant enough warble
Over which to dordle
As I bathe and shave

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