Julianne is 19, with a face and form to inspire poetry in the most prosaic of men.
She is the girl the love-songs are written about: ‘the face in the misty light’, ‘the promised kiss of springtime’, ‘your lips, your eyes, your golden hair, are a class beyond compare…’
Ever noticed in that last-instanced song, that ‘eyes’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘class’? Can any of you poets, gazing on Julianne’s loveliness, think of a word that not only rhymes with ‘class’, but would be wondrously appropriate in her case?
Thought you might! Julianne possesses a bottom to dream upon!
Janus 113 can be downloaded here:
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