She turned her back coldly,
Like the weather of gray skies;
Her lips refused to form smiles,
He did not look like Prince Charming.
Then she sees something he owns,
And starts to fall deeply in love;
Seeing him through different eyes,
Putting on all the moves to tempt.
Dark lace gloves and stockings,
Sashay in her walk, smoke in eyes;
The smiling lips are ever tinged red,
And her hands never leave his skin.
He is in seventh heaven,
A haven he knows money bought;
It doesnt matter she lusts his gold,
As long as, together - they grow old.
Copyright © 2016 thearcticstar