Back Next Pony Tail

She is high upon the tree
A leaf
All yellowed
And withered
Yesterdays' words
Are still on her lips
She try to wear
The mask of innocence
An unblemished virginity
But she has divorced god
Long ago
And yesterdays' college days
Have turned to a muddy gold.
She does her duty
And comes to each occasion
In her pony tail.

Irwin R. Shaw - December 16th 1982