Oh dear Odile
Oh dear, Odile will catch a chill
Sitting on the window sill,
Tossing her heart to the boys in the street
And pulling it back, like a kite, to her feet
Where it flutters and begs for another flight.
She trembles and stutters her sorrowful plight
To the empty air, to the lonely night.
When the boys have gone
She lingers on,
Swinging her heart
And her legs
In the dark.
© Morag Emmerson, 1976.
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