Little Black Dress

by Dan Burt

My carriage straight, your bosom taut,
I courted you hotly, as young men ought,
Applauded your shape in a little black dress,
Followed your arms as they rose to undress.

Now frames are bent, our breastwork sags,
And the little black dress is gone for rags.
So I court you gently, as old men must,
With a little less ardour, a bit less fuss.