My Lydia, my Lydia
My Lydia, my Lydia,
You undoubtedly have contracted chlamydia.
During one of your sex-capades,
In a beloved city, somewhere in Syria, or India,
Or presumably from the talented guy,
You willingly met at the cafeteria in Nigeria.
maybe it was the Presbyterian at the meridian?
Oh My Lydia, my Lydia, you say its just trivia
Remember Olivia from Bolivia contracted diphtheria.
She customarily wore a bougainvillea in her hair.
After every consensual affair, with eccentric millionaires
I saw her today she looked worn and in despair,
Even though mature life was unfair, she still had a little flair.
and wore a fragrant flower in her flowing hair.
My Lydia, my Lydia what's that, you say, you don’t care.
Copyright © mike porter | Year Posted 2021
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment