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Mermaid (M.P.Bridger)I've always had this thing about girls with wet hair. I can recall that timeless moment, Having ascended from the school swimming pool, Dressed and dried in time for the lunch bell We sat out of the shimmering sun In the log cabin fort that was pride of the school. That time amongst familiar faces, Sitting huddled,giggling in the gloom. I was always silent. I sat listening to outrageous things being spoken That I had only dreamed of. The girl sitting on my lap possessed that rare gift Of holding my attention and my heart. Her long slender legs draped over my knees And eyes that had me spellbound were my downfall. The hot blazing sun thrusting its way Through the cracks in the log walls Made her dripping straggling hair glisten with enchantment. Stroking my face, she told me it was me she loved... This week. And when her lips met mine I felt a shiver of adrenalin dance on the back of my neck. In that moment I felt ten feet tall and musclebound, I felt I could take on the world and win And fight a hundred men for pleasure such as this. Soon after this I learnt to be less enthusiastic And to keep my heart to myself With a hated sense of feeling foolish. I had brashly declared my love And the next day, she her's... For the captain of the school football team. And even though he bloodied my nose to confirm this, There is nothing now that arouses my interest quicker Than a woman with wet hair. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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