A reader’s poem: Dresses and Jeans

He was pretty in a manly way
With rosy lips and a smile so gay,
Expressive eyes so dark and wide
Wondering what inside he’d hide,
Throws his head back, hands in air
With elegance and fashion flair,
Eloquence in every word
The sweetest voice you ever heard.
Scarves which swish in every breeze,
A golden dress down to his knees.
Diamonds are his dearest friends
As for perfume that depends.

He does a show each night at ten,
Takes off his dress to thrill the men,
Leather boys and strippers too
Wait to see him as they queue.
And when he’s done his show each night
He walks home in the dim lamplight,
Make-up gone, a pair of jeans
Another man is what he seems.

He shuts the door, falls on his bed
Thoughts of love then fill his head,
Another night to lie alone,
He never hears the telephone.
He wonders if he’ll hear a knock
Just hears the tick tock of the clock.
His lover left so long ago,
He just goes on with every show,
Throws his hands up in the air
For the pain is hard to bear,
A lover gone, another show,
Another lonely night to know.

Sherifa Rashidally