pretending to be insecure.
Tweed skirted,hem on knee,
string of costume jewellery
Smooth gravy browned legs,
platform shoes. Hair V for victory
it falls, at nape of neck, turban
that longed for fake lustre
of a Hollywood pearl.
Searching blacked out nights
for the right airman with anchor
arm charms,or a cool G.I.
faintly scarred A bluebird in clover
while misty skies whitened over Dover,
dance band stuck up a tune,under
a moon in June-"Begin the Begine,"
wearing shiny knickers of crepe de chine.
Its truly amazing how some men paid
to be put in pain. How you adored
their grovelling across the floor. O.K.
Auntie,you can put away the lash
while i go and cash your pension.