William Wootten

The Ladies’ Man

The ladies that he spoke to, soft and sure,
Believed in dresses longing to be made
Of no material but that very shade
Of fabric he laid out. So his demure
Debs’ fingers would dip gracefully to azure
Yards of silk, and his housewives’ eyes, displayed
A deep vermillion with a silver braid,
Would find themselves seduced by its allure.

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