Thank Heavens

Who can resist their shape,

and their form.

A delicate art,

it’s not possible to scorn.

From cradle to grave,

they demand our attention.

Dominate our lives,

and inspire such creation.

Through cunning and guile,

they show just enough.

We reach out for their spoils,

but it’s only a bluff.

We suffer their whims,

and beck at their call.

Until sooner or later,

they give of their all.

Before us they tease,

their charms are laid bare.

We’re trapped now forever,

in a dastardly snare.

Again and again,

we surrender our will.

Confident if not caring,

that she has taken the pill.

But sooner or later,

you stand not in good stead.

She turns glibly,

her excuse a sore head.

Yet the game is not over,

we still worship their ground.

Why desist now,

there’s still plenty around.


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