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Jamster

No Super Models for me.

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Jamster   

There traveled a lady who was out of her mind,

It is rare to encounter one of her kind.

When forced she would nibble on morsels of bread,

Then quickly she ran to get far far ahead.

Each time we caught up she looked even thinner,

This frail little girl would not hold her dinner.

She carried to Canterbury her bridal lace,

In hopes that some man would fancy her face.

I hadn't the heart to be level-headed,

And tell the sweet thing why she'd never be wedded.

Her thin and weak frame,

Was really to blame.

For although her complexion was soft and fair,

It was hard to distinguish if her body was there.

Looking upon her set any man at unease,

It was obvious her body wasn't made for babies.

Although I grew fond,

Of the sweet little blond,

My motto must be,

No Super Models for me.

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raula   

Her thin and weak frame,

Was really to blame.

For although her complexion was soft and fair,

It was hard to distinguish if her body was there.

Looking upon her set any man at unease,

:rolleyes: :rolleyes: I guess we have different desires as human kinds.

 

A poem as such is a first for me-mucho gracias senor :D

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