Perched on a bar stool
Statuesque and proud
Her long legs a flashing
Posing for the crowd
Looking for some interest
Some attention going her way
She wanted just another drink
But someone else to pay
Her makeup carefully painted
Rouge upon her cheek
Her dress cut down the side
To provide a little peek
The bait was set
The hook prepared
It was time to wait
She knew if she waited long enough
They'd come knocking at her gate
But time passed and no one came
No one I could see
But to my surprise her luck was good
The fish she caught was me.
Boy does this poem remind me of myself in my younger years! Fantastic write!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amusing effort. Nicely paced. Typo: should be 'passed' not 'past'.