Men dream
Of a beauty queen.
A few find romance
In Aphrodite’s dance.
Her bare
Arms
And each pert breast
Possess
Such charms.

But, if she be
Merely beauty,
It preys on his mind,
That behind
That pretty face
Lies a vacant place.

Her perfume is sweet
At night.
But, come morning’s light
Body odours defeat
And fresh perfume
Must fill the room.

Yet he
Is as she
And must
Wash and brush.
I
Know that Lust
Has a short sell by date,.
And both love and lust
End in dust.