Rosy Palm

Rosy knows,
the cadence and the dance,
the quick and furtive,
raunchy and silence stressed.

She whispers less now in my ear
than then.
Tales of industrial strength vibration
and voyeuristic joy.

Her early tales are
half forgotten now,
except the first,
the unexpected.

Long after others lied,
of prowess and of daring do;
Rosy, always Rosy,
you come thru.