The Beauty
Standing serenely with a faraway look
That would make a man simmer and slowly cook
A certain curl to her sensual lips
As she raised her glass taking slow short sips
Each man in the room was given an up and down
With those not favoured given the slightest frown
Until her eyes rested on the chosen one
And her icey stare melted away and was gone.
© Paul Warren Poetry
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