I wrote this poem twelve years ago
for Mademoiselle Brigitte Bardot
Today’s her birthday once again
now I’m as old as she was then
Brigitte Bardot
This morning the paper brought the news
and my heart took a nosedive into my shoes.
The "Birthdays" column delivered the blow:
three-score-and-ten for Brigitte Bardot.
How well I remember (ce n’est pas un mirage)
her pouting lips, her décolletage.
Her sultry eyes and tousled hair
were the answer to a young boy’s prayer.
If Brigitte is seventy I'm not far behind,
with an arm she can lean on if she's so inclined.
I'll step up and say, as I doff my chapeau:
joyeux anniversaire Mademoiselle Bardot.
for Mademoiselle Brigitte Bardot
Today’s her birthday once again
now I’m as old as she was then
Brigitte Bardot
This morning the paper brought the news
and my heart took a nosedive into my shoes.
The "Birthdays" column delivered the blow:
three-score-and-ten for Brigitte Bardot.
How well I remember (ce n’est pas un mirage)
her pouting lips, her décolletage.
Her sultry eyes and tousled hair
were the answer to a young boy’s prayer.
If Brigitte is seventy I'm not far behind,
with an arm she can lean on if she's so inclined.
I'll step up and say, as I doff my chapeau:
joyeux anniversaire Mademoiselle Bardot.
RSS Feed