Not all of us.

All of us leaves,

rustling to the song of the gust.

The little dot on her nose

Smiling with her,

As if a diva from a

Fantastical gym playlist.

That was the only lean part

About her.

And she was laughed at for that,

Would even hope 

to be born a milking cow

So she could stay fat and be adored.

Somehow she learnt to love it.

The bulges along her love handles,

Huge curves that formed her hips,

The fullness of her breasts

In a sweetheart neck top

The figure that replicated 

An enchanting siren

From the old mediterranean coasts.

She herself would objectify her.

Such was the allure

And yet she became 

an instrument of pun.

Ma'am but you wouldn't

Wait for a guy in some armour 

To show you your esteem,

Would you?

Everyone sees the 

whimsical magic of a person 

That you are.

Yet they just choose to shut it,

For God knows what reason.

But I wouldn't let you slip.

Such an enchanting source 

of muse for my little art - Rose

Giving the titanic (iconic)sketch pose

For my covetous but poor lil Jack.

Also ily😘