The high heels in the house next door
 

Her footsteps paint a picture from the garden to the shed,

From the kitchen to the pantry from the bathroom to the bed,

She's a sexy little firework, light the fuse and then retire,

I can feel the kind of mood she's in, her high heels never lie.

She's walking kind of sassy must be on her way to work,

She runs a little boutique for a girl who likes to flirt,

A girl who likes a shapely leg and all that that implies,

A girl behind a curtain - finger beckons, 'come inside.'

'Is this fit right or just too tight?' She spins round with a swish,

'What about the colour, does it make my bust look big?'

'Do I need to wear a bra or could I get away without,'

'I value your opinion, would that emphasise the bounce?'

But that's just half the picture, there's a gorgeous guy in tow,

Her heels are over-smitten, when she walks she sort of floats.

She's busy in the bathroom, dresses laid out by the score,

In and out of every one, well, a girl has to be sure.

She really wants to please him, give him all she's got in stock,

You don't let guys like this escape, her walk says 'tie the knot.'

I can hear it as she runs down stairs to greet her paramour,

Her high heels jump into his arms, his shoe back kicks the door.

The high heels in the house next door may soon have to decide,

Does she love her boss sufficiently to sacrifice this guy?

Should she tell him how she really feels or should she change her job?

Or should she love the two of them, her high heels think she should.

© Joseph G Dawson