Shorts and Skirts

Many a years ago, I used to jump walls and roof tops, that‘s my “game“
A girls manicured world was lame, pink was just not me, please
I ran,sweat and grimed myself, with my “bestie“ just ahead
And then he had to go away, I no longer wanted to bounce and frown

Few years down the tube, I changed into a pink lil‘ madame you know
My hair was brushed, my clothes were prim, I knew the drill a lady should
A lad I see look straight into me, I was walking and he cycling
Was it my face, or my lace, prehaps the pinkie toe nail had clipped

It happened again, the next day but I knew then it wasen‘t me.
A call after years to my “besties“ place, confirmed to him that it was I who he chased.
A dish a dush, a “whats wrong with you, cant you tell me from me?“
An apology I didnt hear but a “I‘m in love, what do I do“

He was sent back to his sense, made to see that we were “besties“ to be.
Dont break this one and try another one, be best with what you always were.
Was I delerious to say these words, prehaps I was but didnt want worse.
I wanted no change, in my mind he was always my treasured best.

(In the end, I lost my “bestie“ as a friend, I didnt have him as any one else)