Friday, 6 April 2012

Disapproval Disguised as Concern

I see men in cut-off trousers,
And girls in hotpants too.
Their teeth are all a-chatter
And their legs are turning blue.
And though it's not my business,
My face, with rage, contorts.
It's only bloody April!
It's far too cold for shorts!
They're determined not to heed me.
(Though their skin is chapped and frozen.)
I see culottes and swimming trunks
And even lederhosen!
It's bad enough in Summer time
When dress codes are thrown out.
The high street looks like Bondi Beach
(But for the sunburned and the stout.)
And even though I shouldn't say,
These things that I have thought,
I cannot help exclaim out loud:
It's far too cold for shorts!
A skinny lass with willowed limbs,
The teens with knobbly knees.
You must understand, I'm not a prude,
I'm just worried that they'll freeze!
The bigger bloke, in too-tight trunks;
His muffin-top resplendent.
A premature and foul eyesore
That might make me drug-dependent.
I do not wish to see tattoos
blurred on fleshy thighs.
I don't want to look at goose-bumped pins
But I can't avert my eyes!
I will not keep this to myself,
I must share, with you, my sorrow.
For, when the knees appear, my dear,
Midriffs are sure to follow.
My mouth is numbed with horror,
But these facts, I can report:
It's only bloody April!
It's far too cold for shorts!
I'd rather keep the Spring demure
And I could do with some support.
Isn't anything sacred any more?
It's far too cold for shorts!

1 comment:

  1. Hey Leanne - you added me on ideas tap and I followed you here and am now continuing to follow you ('follow' is such a creepy term, isn't it?). Lots of great stuff here! X