Wairose Woman Poem by Edwin Hopper

I look at Waitrose woman, standing proud.
Browsing the shelves, her head held high.
Talking with her friends, just a little loud,
looking at everyone straight in the eye.

If she works at all it's in management.
That's why she's never dressed flash.
She watches the rest of us in judgement,
Her high self esteem, out values our cash.

She's top shelf stretching, the vision's profound
Dancer's posing, rules not forgotten.
Watch her bending low, thighs are round,
admire curve of spine, and cleft of bottom.

Our eyes meet. I must be tough enough.
She turns my way. I worship her breast.
She smiles. Is she after a bit of rough?
Then looks away. I have failed the test.

Maybe she wants a youngster who can last?
Hell. Lets face it. I'm just not in her class.