June-Berg

June-Berg? Yeah, I remember her. The vanilla girl. With the poppy lips. And tidal hips. With eyes like stars. And cheeks like mars. With breast like moons; Men came in platoons. Where is she these days? Well, the breast dropped, At thirty-three; Went to her knees, At kid number three. The hips, they hide, within her waist, Today they can, barely be traced. The lips remain though twisted in pain, The eyes' glitter Fades in cloud's rain. No more does she club She stays at home. The men have all left and found fresh loam. She stares at the window as she reminisce, she misses it all. Man's touch and man's kiss. She wishes she'd marry, Joe, Tom or Larry who all have wives now; For her, they didn't tarry. The men that she had Were dogs and so bad. She was their pleasure. They found other lovers. She regrets the lifestyle She lived in her youth. She had so much sugar Not much wine from its fruits. She sits and writes letters to girls beautiful like she was informing of choosing a man.. not from the buzz. but one who'd commit, to the heart and not skin; though beauty is beautiful, It's best from within... Yeah. I remember June-berg. The dame of her time. Sweet, beautiful June-berg. I loved me sweet June-Berg. Tried to give her a ring. Give me her number. I'd give her a call... I found her heart beautiful. Most beautiful of all... Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis