Thursday, August 11, 2011
image borrowed from bing
Lily was a beauty, a real drop dead, hourglass figured girl.
She had hair that waved all on its own. She had a way of
tilting her eyes at the boys that made them forget all
the warnings their dear, sweet mothers had issued them.
That Lily girl knew how to work it.
There are probably about fifty trees in a twenty mile
radius of her house that have her name stabbed in pen
knife by boys who should have known better and not
wished their boyhood away on her.
They married the brunette in the end, they always do,
those dreaming boys.
Lily settled for a tall, laconic boy in the end,
eyes like Paul Newman and a chat up routine that
should be patented and sold to boys everywhere who
don't want to settle for a brunette.
The laconic boy never had to etch his name on a tree
to win the hand of Lily. He just leaned against the porch
one summer evening and just 'was'.
That's how it goes, love whispers before it shouts.
Posted over on her site Sort of Writing
Listed as #28 over on Magpie Tales 77