Snakeskin And Brown

Woman, woman, a snake-like vision
The way her body writhes
Through the crowds of cardboard, all
Agility in her thighs as she strides
In snakeskin boots on Croydon’s town tiles
That have covered roots and grass,
And what an amazing ass
She sways in just enough motion
To compel my attention,
And as she passes, her profile
Is familiar and I remember
When I knew her, the girl, girl;

That brown skin that she was
Moving in, so tight that it might
Have been, followed her contours’ flow
And her hair was golden,
Charming, as her lithe long legs
Were disarming, but her hair
Was longer now, and her air
Was stronger; she
Must have worked on her personality
In moves and motions,
Mirror-practised to perfection,
For I could see no egg of a man
Ever trying to forward her
A rejection.

 

 

(picture coming soon...)