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Purring
Every now and then
A gem strolls into
This dead ass mall,
Sunday morning with
Everyone seemingly
Still on their
knees
Somewhere ...
In she came,
Few people look
Really really good in
Form fitting spandex,
She was one
Of the gifted ones,
No make-up,
A touch of perfect
Perfume,
Long dark silky hair,
Smouldering eyes,
Though beauty a times
Is only skin deep,
With her it was
Through and through,
Purring on auto-pilot,
She could have been you,
But then, I have not
Seen you sipping a mocha
In form fitting spandex.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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