Not as pretty as a picture
But she still became a fixture.
She’s in my mind and in my heart,
And now we’ll never be apart.
My wife has gone, I’m child free,
What really does she think of me?
Was it the perfume in her hair,
Or the way I tried hard not to stare,
Perhaps the drink had made me weak,
We started dancing cheek to cheek,
A promise made What could go wrong,
The lure of passion was too strong,
And now she’s left I’m all alone.
She left a message on my phone,
“I’m with another better man,
With a double garage and a camper van”.
How could such a beauty say
I’m not with you please go away.
I gave her everything I could,
Her heart was clearly made of wood.
But every time I see her face
My heart moves to a faster pace,
A face like an Angel a heart made of steel
In the cold light of day What’s the appeal
I fell in………… her spell was cast.
I’m sure I will not be the last.
She’s a Femme Fatale that’s what they say,
And I’m the mug she tried to play.
Your poem lead me on a merry dance just like she did, great art work too.
I'm not so sure about "tried" to play!