Oh look
A glimpse of thigh
As her legs cross
Vary titillating
But the young girls
Hipster clad
Showing thongs
Fail to titillate.
However, the young
woman
In the lemon dress
Illuminated in that
shaft
Of golden sunlight
Does excite the senses
Now a well-endowed
lass
On an adjacent table
Leans forward suddenly
And her breasts
Rearrange themselves
Delightfully before my
eyes
I know I’m objectifying
But I feel no shame
As I sit and view
A curvaceous beauty,
A shapely leg,
Or well-sculptured
ankle,
Pert well-formed
buttocks,
Or plump or perky
breasts
However, I dislike
Tarty or vampy
So, no bare midriffs
Or obscenely short
skirts
Less is more in my
opinion
So, objectifying or
not
I feel no shame
For lecherous viewing
Where’s the sin
In looking
They are God’s
creation
When all said and done
Well packaged morsels
Of his finest work
So why would he
Give us such
delicacies
If he intended us not
to look
So, where’s the sin
In objectifying such
delights
Even if I am the Vicar
