(For the girl who thought that her freckles weren`t sexy)

 

 

Fellas don`t you sometimes speculate

Why it is only some girls freckulate?

Maureen now, to take a case,

Has many sprinkling her face.

She`s even got two streams- by eck,

A-trickling a-down her neck.

And –until the weather`s colder –

Niagras tumbling round each shoulder.

Two, more brave than all the rest,

Are nestled – one on each white breast.

While one – made sex-mad by the heavage –

Has snuck right down between her cleavage.

 

Granted, she`s got none on her palms

But crowds are spiralling down her arms.

And two, like little pimples peek

From each pert dimple of her cheek.

She even has `em, if you please,

In the dimples of her knees,

Which makes me wonder has she got `em

In the dimples of her bottom.

(And I feel for sure the good lords put `um

Tucked up in her belly button )

 

A troop around the sleek expanse

Of her stomach`s sleek protuberance

Sway in  a sinuous belly dance,

Brushing the delicate undergrowth

Where a couple peep out shyly loathe

To talk to – or even fraternise -

With the wantons whirling round her thighs.

……..

But wait! A thought`s occurred to me

While here in this vicinity!

I wonder…wonder…could it be?

…………

But here I fear I don`t feel free

Perhaps I`d better leave it be,

 

(George, her husband`s six foot three)