Shy She
She…
Suffers no fools, rules the cool,
Shares her cares, wears pairs of
Old rolled gold creole rings in her ears (bling),
Sings ‘Wings’ songs
Longs for the throng’s wrongs to be righted
Far sighted, rarely delighted by the
Noise of boys’ joy in their toys –
But inside she sighs soft cries for ties wise guys would die for.
She knows she could, should indeed would say to him:
‘Please talk to, walk with me, see how I plea; bended knee
Is not beyond me for one smile, stop awhile,
Don’t let my guile rile…’
He…
Walks past fast, hopes at half mast,
Memory still aghast at last laughs
But thinks, ‘She lonely? If only!’
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