The Darling Buds of Mae
Come up and see me sometime
Born with innuendo on every breath.
At five you knew the stage was your oyster.
Husky soundbites, oozing sex.
No formal introduction required.
A promise never seen fulfilled.
Stroking our brains’ erogenous zones.
Pushing the envelope.
Jail time to make your point.
Profits from the moralist clique.
Censorship paying your wages.
Broadway made your name.
Fun and titillation on the silver screen.
An embryonic Cary Grant owed you so much.
Tight platinum curls,
Opaque dresses tighter than the skin beneath
Eons before your time.
You had a lot, and it was all yours.
Eighty-seven years, game to the last.
Your sinuous invitation echoes though time.