The Myth of YouthA Poem by Siobhan
The One They Watch
I am no longer the one they gaze at,
walking into walls for a glimpse of hip
and tight tee. My curves are rounder, fuller
than thin, lithe girls not yet woman enough
to teach them manners and mischief alike.
At peace with the body of goddess,
rather than nymph, I walk with head held high,
my stride not a strut, and yet still with wiggle
enough to entice the glance of the men
who know this experience and beauty
are better than hips bones and odd angles,
who can tell by the tilt of smile, I’m real.
© 2008 SiobhanReviews
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1 Review Added on June 1, 2008 AuthorSiobhanSpringfield, ILAboutI am a woman - and a poet - and mother - wife and lover. I write to remain somewhat sane. My passion is poetry yet I dabble in suspense romance as well (the writing of, that is). more..Writing
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