• Three Graces

     

    Three Graces on a promenade,
    pretending to be Greek,
    gave their favors readily
    along the Chesapeake.

    Their stream of suitors steadily
    grew longer every week
    as dozens drowned in their facades,
    some younger, some antique. 

    It wasn’t how they “oohed” or “ahhed”
    that formed their great mystique,
    but was, in fact, an act of God
    that made them each unique.
    (No fellow ever hemmed or hawed
    once he had had a peek.) 

    It wasn’t how they la-de-dahhed
    that made magnifique.
    But when these Graces oom-pah-pahhed
    their suitors reached a peak
    that left each fellow over-awed
    by their sheer technique. 

    Of course, in time, the thrills grow flawed;
    the glow will leave the cheek.
    These Graces know their bed will be
    a slow boat up the creek.

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