The Beauty
She reclines on the gray loveseat
A modern day Matisse
Dressed in shades of dusk:
Her favorite blue jeans
Tight fitting on the hips
Black tee peeking through
Strips of lace in her heather
Gray sweatshirt showing
Pale skin striking against
Raven hair, large brown eyes like
Does' under arched brows.
Seductress's eyes that call
Men to her in droves
Leading them to imagine her
Perfect red lips parting to call
Their names. She is beautiful
Against the wooden paneling of
An outdated Rec room.
She doesn't belong lounging
On a battered sofa
Draped in a teal towel
As if seeking to hide its
Disheveled appearance
Like a Madame startled
By the visitors in blue who
Never call ahead.
The cell phone remains
Silent. He doesn't call.