Braless

Each morning when I take my walk, I see a sight which makes me gawk – A woman, in her seventies, Whose breasts are swinging in the breeze. Well, not exactly – there’s a blouse, So there’s no cause to fret or grouse; But there’s no bra – of that I’m sure, And no elastic to endure. She looks like she’s en route to work; Perhaps the dress code is a perk. Nobody even gives a glance To see the way those puppies dance! I wonder why she sports this style. Would asking earn a frown or smile? My theory holds, in protests past, Into the fire her bras were cast. Though that was many years ago, She must have liked the feel and flow Of being free and less confined And thus, her bras remained behind. A simple explanation – still, I do not know and never will. No matter whence her reasons stem, Hats off to this unfettered femme!