She wears her pants now
in her woman only tribe
rejecting the protection
of the gladiators pride
and he is manicuring
his hairs as best he can
smooth and soft like hers
this modern trodden man
he loves him and she loves her
sometimes the twain will meet
to find that he's too giving
and she's not quite as sweet
it's a type of stereo
typical in the extreme
keeping love in limbo
somewhere in between
oh give me her with flowers
resting in her hair
floating summer dresses
dancing through the air
softly spoken reasons
to accept romantic fate
I call for you dear maiden
before its all too late
A great write. love, this modern trodden man an enjoyable read,
I call for you dear maiden before its all too late Beautiful lines!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An outstanding poem! Every line is exquisite.Truly a brilliant poem! Thank you