The firm orbs of a woman’s breasts:
these some worship more than the Ancients did the sun.
High Priests of Mammae are they now.
For the largesse of her bosom,
they’ve made of woman a sacred cow.
If a woman speaks with reason and is witty
but meets not the High Priests’ standards to be pretty,
she doesn’t stand out, she may as well not be,
in the eyes of such boors feigning maturity.
Though appearance may pique them at first glance,
real men look for sure beauties that persist:
those of spirit, of mind, of moral constancy.
So let us men seek in women, each and all,
things that will ever make us joy, that never pall.
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2012
O'Driscoll's Take on the World 