In Her Copper Coloured Wig

A respectable girl was she; or so she appeared to be Living alone in her dear little cottage at number seventy three Each day she left home bright and early, as she walked to the railway station Awaiting the train she would ponder upon her total transmogrification Travelling first class to London, dressed in a suit and leather brogues She was the picture of respectability, but nobody really knows Heading straight for the club in Soho, where she was paid to perform Descending the stairs, she took a deep breath, as she completely transformed Into a girl named Sinitta, where dirty old men queued to meet her She danced with seven fans and with carefully positioned hands In her copper coloured wig, for she had nothing else to hide behind Dancing in a trance, she would escape to her unconscious mind She danced her eyes shut tightly, giving a zombie like display Her only way of getting through the dance each working day Whilst traveling home she calculated monies she would earn For she had reached her breaking point; it was the point of no return All monies that she’d earnt so far, went to support her dearest Ma In the best asylum she could find; for sweet dear souls who’d lost their mind Written 31st October 2018 Contest No 512 Sponsor Brian Strand 1st placement