She’s good at modeling, with all the right skills
She dresses in satin with lacy frills
Posing, and turning, smiling and spurning
One moment exhausted, yet inside she’s yearning
Each pose, bound and captured in stills

A hand on her shoulder fills her with chills
Each pose builds to greater thrills
The next moment she’s got you all burning
She’s good at modeling

Down to the floor her silk robe spills
This isn’t what she wanted but it pays the bills
Pose on the ground, her body writhing
The camera’s snap catches her shyly smiling
She’s good at modeling.


this was an attempt at the frech form of poetry called a "rondeau"