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Norma Allan ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales

Standing tall and proud, disdainful,
Hands held firmly on her hips;
Both her legs were engineered,
She could launch a thousand ships.
Frizzled hair of burnished ginger,
She sought love for all it's worth,
Yet some DNA slid sideways
At the moment of her birth.

She would take my
Youthful mind off
Heavy rain-soaked
Northern skies,
Grim, forbidding,
To contrast her
Hazel eyes:
Norma Allan!

Living by no normal standards,
They restricted and enclosed;
No, not for Miss Norma Allan
Were the limits life imposed.
She studied occult mysteries,
Conjured things best left alone.
The seeds of her self-destruction
Were by Norma's own hand sown.

As I look back
With indulgence
To a time that I
Dared still dream,
But one name is
But one person
Stands supreme:
Norma Allan!

No man tamed Miss Norma Allan,
Now she lives cold, quite alone.
Just Afghan hounds and memories
Greet her when she comes back home.
Six months long did she favour me,
I was hers, could do no wrong,
But Norma just en-stifled you,
So the time came to move on.

How the house must
Ring to echoes
Of those days she
Once did milk;
When her legs were
And her body
Sculptured silk:
Norma Allan!

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