Strong with her pen,
One female, while others were men.
Sobers and sincere at her desk,
Willing to repair wherever may be wreck.
A few sometimes used to make her a fun,
Often described her, a bulky gun.
Sometimes they called her, cold dry ice,
Although she was pleasant and very nice.
Her complexion was dark she was not beautiful,
But she was helpful and dutiful.
One day a girl very very cute,
Moving like the waves coming out from a flute,
A tight fit dress exposing all curves,
Accelerating the beats, exciting the nerves,
An advertising executive arrived there,
And in a moment she was center of sphere.
See her, see her, Lily whispered,
How beautiful! Cleopatra she referred.
But I think she’s wife of a bull,
And Miss Lily you are more beautiful.
How I am beautiful, a bulky gun,
I think you too have made me a fun.
Then every day she asked to tell,
Like an alarm’s fixed time bell,
I was annoyed of the question being same,
Bringing on me an assertion’s shame.
The answer was revealed at last to me,
I can get you but I can’t Miss She.
She laughed and told me, you naughty boy,
I am working for my family, I’m not a toy.
My husband has left me, alone on this earth,
My asset is my son, I’m struggling for his worth.
And to support my old ailing parents,
To life I have made these two commitments.
Many years after, I saw once more,
Lily, with her son, she was worthy of adore,
Introduced his son as a top executive,
Her car, her son, were both narrative,
Sincere to commitments, she was in full,
I must say she is truly beautiful.