by Michael T. Heath

Created on: July 14, 2010   Last Updated: July 23, 2010

Not A Chance

She smelled good enough to eat

The freshest oyster can't compete

She wore very little on her back

Her legs might start a heart attack

She was swinging two tanned arms

And knew the half of her charms

That fine lady breezed on by

I gave up a tortured sigh

Her hair flew back in the wind

I looked away, but I had sinned

With the barest of a glance

This dream didn't stand a chance

She smelled good enough to eat

Just the sort of midday treat

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