Fishnet Stockings and High Heels
A somewhat whimsical prose of a lady admired from afar.
With a relaxing sigh, I assumed my seat, Like an outbound tide, My tension’s retreat. The waitress suggests, With an intoxicating grin, That I enjoy the house special, A cool tonic and gin. Surveying the bar crowd, My eyes they did wander, They followed her far stare, I wondered, what did she ponder? Twenty feet, perhaps more, Nevertheless she sat near, Her eyes spied my gaze, Her lips formed a tight sneer. With a...