She Was Lily …

Once proud, glamourous and desired,

So surprised to have been lying there overnight,

In the hedge bottom, surrounded by fallen apples:

The very fruit of her performance, persuasion and profession;

Getting damp, sniffed around perhaps by

Curious fox cubs as she shivered;

Unused to the lack of attention and

Neglected, nay discarded, she can still show

Those false, panting last-second pouts, faintly self-damning

And wholly ridiculous in her new environment.

Too two dimensional to keep around for longer than

Lust will stand to attention;

Passed over for the latest new-big-thing fashion:

She was Lily,

Now she’s just a picture.

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