Young women of fashion
Excite the passion
Of older guys,
Who yearn to possess
The girl in the short dress,
And caress
Her perfectly formed thighs.
losing himself in those soft brown eyes,
Man tries
But rebuffed,
He acts tough,
Inwardly sighs
While inside, a little bit of him dies
She left her makeup behind
For him to find.
A common mistake
For a girl to make.
How easy to forget
Yet …
“I don’t like rules” she said
As she stood upon her head.
“I agree with thee
‘Tis good to be free.
Now do take tea
With me”
I said with glee.
“But the manager is looking.
Soon the shop he will be shutting.
I hear him shout
“You two, get out”!
She replied with a pout
When the clock does strike.
Joy is at an end.
She descends
To be swallowed by night
The things men do,
The words they say,
Little thinking that they must pay.
The secret trist.
Man can not resist.
perfume on a girl’s wrist.
A stray hair
upon the stair.
You swear
she wasn’t there.
The crumpled bed.
The dread
of neighbours who tell
How they heard the bell
ring late
and reveal
the click of heel
On stair.
You swear
She wasn’t there!
I will not play tonight she said
shaking her flirtacious head.
But tomorrow who knows
for that is the way writing goes
Were high heels for they make you tall
But be careful lest you fall.
Situations are slippery as eels.
The ground feels
firm
but the worm
may turn
and swallow
the hollow
you.
Were high heels for you are pretty
And the citty
Is full of witty
Men
Who employ their pen
To record every slip
And trip.
Watch the pavement as you walk
For people talk
And reputations are brittle as bones
That break on stones …
The young man preens
And dreams
Of girls in frocks
Who lose their socks
The young girl thinks of fast cars
of fumbling hands
And broken bras.
The middle aged man ponders on his misspent youth
On wonky car seats
and a girl called Ruth.
The middle aged lady takes her husband’s hand
As they stroll contentedly along the sand.
A glamorous bra
To show who you are.
Sharp pointy heels
to seal your deals.
A short red dress
your legs impress.
Your shapely bust
ingenders lust.
While your long blonde hair
Does men ensnare.
“Girl do you possess the art
To reveal your heart?”
Tentative knocking on a suburban door,
Innocence enters but departs no more.
Clothes scattered on the bedroom floor,
Dreams shattered to be dreamed no more.
K Morris - Poet 