Striding down my little street,
six inch platforms on my feet.
an accident waiting to happen,
silver coat tails a flapping.
I must have looked an awful sight?
dressed up to go out for the night.
orange lips and purple lashes,
jeans adorned with lightning flashes!

swayed to the music holding on to each other,
the platforms always caused some bother,
and if one of us should topple,and go?
we’d all go down like dominoes.
drank anything,as long as it was cheap,
until we could barely stand on our feet.
then of course someone would wretch and heave,
then we’d be asked politely to leave.

so we’d go and find a chippy,
the chips the colour of my lippy,
how we didn’t break a leg?
or even damage the old head?
then came a laughing fit or two,
the reason for it I have no clue?
and so I wobbled back down our street,
looking forward to the same next week?

This poem was written/submitted by lynne hannah cannon.