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[vyvyanx]

G posting about Heat today reminded me of a poem of the same name that I wrote years ago, maybe when I was about 12:


There she stood, dressed to kill,
Wore a skirt both short and sweet;
Smiled a smile, meant no ill,
Glanced occasionally down the street.

The day was hot, the trees were still,
The forum bright and dazzling-clean,
And still she stood, quite calm, until
Her man in black approached the scene.

The heat hung heavy in the air
And as he thought what words to say
She drew a gun and shot him there,
And smiled a smile, and walked away.

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[olithered.livejournal.com]

I like :)