Batting practice (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

With her large beautiful eyes,

She sees everything,

But she doesn’t see me,

She’s silently on the prowl,

Hoping this is her lucky night,

But she doesn’t see me,

She’s dressed for attracting attention,

She flashes a lot of skin,

I’m blinded by the glare,

But she doesn’t see me,

Batting her eyelashes at buff young men,

She’s lost her winning edge,

And that she cannot see,

But someone wants to dance,

And that someone happens to be me,

She thinks she’s desirable and a hot commodity,

And she says I’m too wrinkled and worn,

I’m on the record but no longer wanted,

My feelings are ripped and torn,

Left as unclaimed property,

And shoved to the side,

She’s forgotten that I love her,

Even while I’m crying inside.

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