On rainy days the balcony takes on a special sheen,
As the road becomes more puddled and the grass becomes more green.
The boards, ignored on brighter days, are varnished by the rain;
Their colour darkened, deepened by a glowing natural 'stain'.
And slats and clouds and raindrops are reflected as by glass.
Sometimes we wish that clouds above would stay, not quickly pass!
I'll never have a mottled midriff.
My diaphragm is white as snow.
For I never wore a brief bikini
In the days of long ago.
There were huzzies who displayed their glory
With a little strip of this or that.
Whose bosoms were all small and cheeky
And whose stomachs were completely flat.
How I envied them their long tanned bodies,
As they glistened and they baked and boiled!
While admiring men hovered round them
Making certain that each limb was oiled.
Every one of them was so appealing.
Their bikinis were so ......... almost-there,
And the sun shone down on every midriff
As it showed itself all taut and bare.
And their midriffs glowed a honey colour
With a healthy, oh so sexy shine.
While one unhappy little midriff
Was covered and that was mine!
I could say I was shy and modest,
I could say that my thoughts were pure,
I could say I was saving my beauty
For a love that would endure.
I could say that I wasn't jealous
I could say that I didn't care.
I could say when they bared their midriffs
That I didn't turn a hair!
But, would you believe my story?
Or would you merely snort,
Knowing that I was freckly
And plumpish and dull and short.
How I longed to be oiled and worshiped!
How I yearned to be tanned and lean,
But my midriff was rather flabby
Not the sort that should be seen!
So I wore a neat little one-piece,
Shirr-elastic was the craze.
And I kept my podge of a midriff
Away from the public gaze.
Now I see them when I'm out shopping,
Those goddesses of the past,
And I realise goddess status
Isn't designed to last.
I can't see beneath their jumpers
Or their track-suits or their frocks
But I bet their glorious midriffs
Have taken some hard knocks.
I bet they're looking wrinkled
And mottled and past their best.
I bet they're secretly happy
That they're not displayed undressed!
The bathroom mirror reveals mine
Still a vague sort of untanned beige.
But I realise I was saving it
To enjoy in my old age!
It is Perfect, just like alabaster,
Still flabby but smoothly designed,
A little bit creased and dimpled
But innocent, young and unlined.
Whereas theirs are all freckled and wrinkly,
All mottled, a sun-scarred disgrace.........
If only I'd worn my swimsuit
If only I'd worn my swimsuit
Pulled right up over my face!
What a great reflection! Takes an observant eye to capture that one!
Loved your poetry as well.
Great fun! Good prose and love the pic!
Besides the great reflection, I like all the lines in this picture...very artistic.
Your Midriff poem really made me smile.
What a unique and beautiful reflection - like glass indeed.
The midriff poem made me giggle.
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