A  Cup

 

She was young and she was slim

Not much meat packed in her sleek skin

But the whisperings of a surge

Of life’s procreative urge

Were looming high on her horizon now.

 

Oh, pity this poor lovelorn lass

Whom life’s sweet pleasure’s sure to pass.

She has no curves in any place

To bring a glint to suitors face.

She feels that life will leave her flat somehow.

 

But wait, her eye perchanced to fall

Upon an advert, square and small:-

“Let silicon your life renew –

You’ll find men waiting in a queue”

All eager for to plight their troth I trow.

 

With lips a-trembling, heart a-quiver

She waits for surgeon to deliver.

Oh, will she find that when she wakes up

She’s gone to Double-D from A-Cup?

Hope swelling high on her horizon now.

 

Yvonne Brunton