High Heels, Diamonds, Badminton, and Cleavage—A Wedding Photo
Old folks used to say, at the birth of a girl,“They’re glad to be here, girls are, that’s a fact,”And they’d smile that knowing smile old folks smile.
I fell in love with such a girl long ago.She belongs to another now, far away,But I think about her when I’m all by myself.
Her breasts are small but the roundest of orbs,The skin between them a feast for the eyes(Just think of the banquet the lips must taste!).
She’s not very tall but in all her curves Proportioned so well a celestialGynometer must have scribed every line.
I never expect to see her again.Such is the way of the world with men who lost.But I have no doubt she is truly loved.
So I stare at this photo I treasure And laugh once more to see her in heelsIn a game of racquets on a lawn so green
Old folks used to say, at the birth of a girl,“They’re glad to be here, girls are, that’s a fact,”And they’d smile that knowing smile old folks smile.
I fell in love with such a girl long ago.She belongs to another now, far away,But I think about her when I’m all by myself.
Her breasts are small but the roundest of orbs,The skin between them a feast for the eyes(Just think of the banquet the lips must taste!).
She’s not very tall but in all her curves Proportioned so well a celestialGynometer must have scribed every line.
I never expect to see her again.Such is the way of the world with men who lost.But I have no doubt she is truly loved.
So I stare at this photo I treasure And laugh once more to see her in heelsIn a game of racquets on a lawn so green
Under a summer sky as bright as her eyes,Herself more dazzling than the diamonds she wearsIn a dress dark blue with blue-white medallions,
A vision men would once have gladly knelt to,As I would do myself if only I could.But time has spoken. And I? Who am I
To talk back to time? Who’s done it all beforeAnd will do it again when I am no moreThan the autograph of a lover’s word.