She
The way she twists her hair
and places back that wayward
wisp behind her ear, the way she
checks her face in every mirror.
How she shimmers to the ladies'
room to re-apply her lipstick,
or she lingers, irresistible,
as you politely hold the door ajar.
The way she glides so smoothly;
you're speechless as she
commandeers the room; 'neath her spell
you're both the best man and the fool.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2006
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