She was young one could tell by the sweet sent of smell
that screamed youth like the song of her bell.
Oh wow what a vision with her low cut incision,
a blouse that her body would sell.
She was wise to the future and resented the past.
Her brown eyes, with one look, they could melt
the very soul of a man who, if willing, he can
put a chink in her armor and smelt.
Though alone she remained and her curves fell in vain
to the absence of hands that impel.
Her breast filled their constraints, reaching out for remains
Of what feelings she may or wont tell.