My body’s ugly, she says,
Silently demanding approval
A wrinkle here, a wrinkle there
A stomach far beyond compare,
Why can't I make her see,
Just how much she means to me...
Her smiling face, her winning ways,
The care she takes of me each day
The meals she cooks, the way she looks,
Why can't I make her see,
just how much she means to me…
'' My Body’s perfect'', she says,
Not requiring any approval...
Tanned and toned, a lovely sight
That hour-glass shape that’s deemed just right
No beer-gut or wrinkles here
All My skin is taut and clear,
Why can’t I make her see,
just how mean she is to me...
I still love her,
Does she love me?
Of course she does,
Don't you agree
it's very, very plain to see
But then again, it comes to me,
Why can’t I make her see,
just how mean she is to me…
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Colin J...5th Jan 2009
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Note: A small play on words and perception.
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Colin Johnston
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/017-perception/
