Beauty’s Early Influence. Poem by Stephen S. Yeandle

Foolish young girl, in way over her head.

Brazen and cute from her toes to head,
feeling control over all that she met.

Martini olive shimmering skin;
contrasting with crystal white,
Miami Beach sand.

Emerald waters lapped at her feet.

Moves so inciting; jewelry for eyes.

Predisposed breasts influenced her ways.

A skeletal waist above thin shapely hips;
suspended by the harmonious length of her legs.

Naked veritable lasting command,
cradled the minds of the men that she met.

Her age and identity, a secret she kept.
No one could possibly guess.

Not the faintest of evidence,
that she was -
but a child.

She taunted and played,
passing herself around like a hat.

Rented by many by the age of sixteen,
their status in queue on her answering machine.


In a few short years,
she would begin to lose luster.

Like a Ghost Orchid, when torn from a tree,
we weep in the absence of the beauty
we lose...