Flirt

Flirt Poem Lionel Derbyshire She says " Flirt You getting old Your style is mould. Your hearty charm Is now stale as cake. Take your seven Empty promises To the squirels. Eight you could Not keep. Nine was your last chance. Now you looking Down and shy When you were Told tie your Shoe laces chickenman ! " He says " Flirt You were just A pretty skirt Nothing is forever Could not make It better Your turn on Is now under Control. I just circling In doubt. If you know What i am Then let me go With my ego. The show is over now ! " Secrets ... They never have Happy endings.