Buttons and Bows

There is a place on 47th where

the clientele’s elite; where purses

are hamstring, and kisses are sweet.

Oh, on 47th, lipsticks blush redder,

women are women, pressed, folded,

soaked, strunged up as linen.

That on 47th, everyone’s a beaut;

dresses are garnished, jewelry’s

afoot as tongues get dished.

And buttons and bows do glisten

in the dark, the laughter and patter

wakes up all sleeping larks.

 

Down on 47th, where women

are women, is where I want to be.

And, someday, I’ll drop my broom

and fly away, I’ll pick up a dress,

make it too neat, buttons and bows

held up in pleat. I’ll dance and I’ll

frolick, hands in the air, and all of

a sudden, I’m merry as the mayor.

Someday on 47th.

——————-

This is the 100 Songs Project, a 100-day writing challenge based on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Songs. Every day, I write a short poem, prose piece, or play based on, reacting to, rejecting, accepting, or doing something related to one of the songs in the top 100 list.

Please consider liking Deelaytful on Facebook. We’re doing a promotion in preparation for the 200th post in a couple of weeks. If we get 500 likes before the 200th post, I will be uploading a video of myself singing a medley of Disney Princesses songs on YouTube.

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