When Christine plays
the dating game
the men will never
be the same.
For, like a cat,
Christine, content,
toys with any
phoning gent.
Toys a little,
then to sit....
to watch them wander
round a bit....
a touch confused,
but that's the trick.
For, after all,
they're slightly thick....
these men.... the ones
who wander round,
making this odd
purring sound....
entranced by Christine's
grey-green eyes....
or, at least, they hope....
The sighs.
I've talked to you
for minutes now
and yet you haven't
told me how
we are to meet.
You mean we're not ??
No kitten here.
An ocelot
is more the nature
of Christine.
A nature clearly
Byzantine.
Just see that glint
within her eyes.
Little wonder
many sighs
emanate
from those around.
And yet I think
that purring sound
is not. But more
a gentle bleat.
These men.... these lambs.
How very sweet.