Amelie

My friend had a cousin whose name was Amelie
but all who knew her well would call her Mimi.
Half Italian, half French she hailed from Paree,
we boys were seventeen and she twenty-three.
She had an exotic beauty and we were lovesick;
we had never seen a woman so elegant and chic.
My pal who knew her better gave us this warning:
boys, he said, you should see her in the morning.
Her face without make-up is a shade of white,
her bare looks repel when seen at first light.
She needs foundation cream, potions and lotions
and other products of which we have no notion.
She’ll apply her maquillage, layer upon layer;
to be thought attractive is her constant prayer.
Come on mate, we said, you are pulling our legs
she’s the epitome of class as sure as eggs is eggs.
We couldn’t care less about foundation cream
she would always remain the girl of our dream.
She went but she had caught our imagination
and even to this day she holds our fascination.

© Luigi Pagano 2013