Out

I never noticed before the differings in eyes

With varieties in shape, in colour and in size.

Staring and glaring with a grin or a frown

Fixedly gazing at some kind of clown.

Small children pointing and saying "Look, Mum!"

Mothers replying, "Don't stare at her son."

Not caring at all for this strange looking freak

Who strides along and turns the other cheek.

Builders on scaffolding shout, "Hello love!"

But the person below doesn't look up above.

Spluttering, muttering for the rest of the day

They all discuss her and decide she was gay.

Long legs, high heels, short skirt and blonde hair

Is it any wonder that all the men stare?

Pretty as a picture - who would ever guess

Of the secret that's hiding under that dress?