Beneath the Veil
By John Herlihy

The girls come in the morning,
The girls go home in the evening.
Each student a unique flower petal,
One student evokes the femme fatale.
Draped head to foot in searing black,
Adorned as in a diaphanous sack.
The veil covers the student’s face,
The eyes remember the human race.
As she talks, she is one of the pack,
As she walks, she goes clackety-clack.
On her hands, black gloves,
In her eyes, fluttering doves.
The perfume of exotic aroma,
The handbag Dolce Gabbana.

I fall deep into those almond eyes,
There in white porcelain in surprise.
She turns away with those alluring eyes,
The moment has passed and now dies.
In steady echo, I hear a sharp refrain,
Clickety-clack across the tiled terrain.
There she goes, surveying the views,
Strutting away in high-heeled shoes.
As I stand there in the desert dust,
With a final breath of scented musk.
I a humble professor in bow tie,
Fall into the well of fantasy, oh my,
Feeling emboldened and sly,
By this mysterious creature,
A veil her most telling feature.