Three Graces on a promenade,pretending to be Greek,gave their favors readilyalong the Chesapeake.
Their stream of suitors steadilygrew longer every weekas 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 Godthat made them each unique.(No fellow ever hemmed or hawedonce he had had a peek.)
It wasn’t how they la-de-dahhedthat made magnifique.But when these Graces oom-pah-pahhedtheir suitors reached a peakthat left each fellow over-awedby their sheer technique.
Of course, in time, the thrills grow flawed;the glow will leave the cheek.These Graces know their bed will bea slow boat up the creek.
Success! Feel free to
or head to your