Promises

Unbridled passion dances in her eyes
Which, if they could speak, would say: Come to bed.
A nurtured pout, a flash of soft white thighs;
Such body language cannot be misread,
But suckers can be duped, and fools misled;
A promise steals the heart which rules the head.

Sincerity just oozes from his face,
And lies could never trip off this man’s tongue,
But selling is a hard game, and his place
As number one rep wasn’t freely won,
How plausibly is every tale begun,
And with such eloquence his web is spun.

How learnéd those who are snared in the trap
While fools too blind or thick to understand
Give short shrift to the polymathic crap
Whose function is in essence somewhat bland:
To sell the thaumaturgist’s sleight of hand.

Birds in the bush and golden eggs unlaid,
And fine words: of these, promises are made.

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