Of Human Blondeage Poem by Jeffrey Philip Clegg

When you meet
Who you
think is the
Most beautiful
Woman in the
World,

And
She's near enough to touch,
But if you do,
You might contaminate
Her,

Do you just sit back and be in love?

When you'll never forget
The moment you first laid eyes on
Her,

Is the memory, alone, good enough?

When you can't look at
Her anymore, because
She'll know what you're thinking,

Is
She still beautiful?

When you don't recognize
Her anyway,
Because all
Blondes look alike,

Is
She still really there?

I live in a condo, up the hill from a
River:

Is it the
Lethe Stream of Forgetfulness?

It must not be,
Because I cannot get
Her
Out of my
Heart.