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I say, my dear Sheila
I believe you’re tied to tight
You have a rather large bump
Which doesn’t look quite right
How dare you, my dear Priscilla
That’s no bump you see
Why, that’s my derriere
And it’s quite a part of me!
Oh forgive me, my dear Sheila
I didn’t mean to speak so crudely
But as you sashay, back and forth
Other women stare, quite rudely
I understand, my dear Priscilla
Let them look, after all, we’re cuties
No need to pay them any mind
They’re jealous of our budding beauty
July Writing Prompts – Budding beauties – Day 2/31
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Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos 