As I wander through the festive mall,
I see on the rears of the shopping masses,
Lines denoting where the panties fall,
On their round and cheeky bouncing asses.
I think to myself what delight, how fine,
Residing beneath that polymer blend,
But hark on that bum there is no line,
what could be smoother than that fine rear-end?
I look with a squint,
I disguise a quick stare.
Up near the top I see a glint,
just peeking o'er, a sequin's glare.
A gold-sequined thong comprises her scanties,
It seems this goddess wears no normal panties.
UPDATED TO SAY: It's the best I can do on a first (OK second) pass.
Hamlet's father.
Updated On: 12/2/04 at 02:09 PM