Oxford Girls

They wear high heels

In a stumbling way

Their mind is high

In a natural state of play.

Their glasses are transparent

Just like yours or mine

So you might think

They look at you

But that is rarely true

You never know

what they actually see

And their looks will never tell

The way they think

about you, about me.

Oh, Oxford girls

Just take a very discreet look

when they come your way

There’s something about them

which might make you

want to stay.

Summer in Oxford

Empty book shelves

Sad windows

Resembling looks of widows

And the sound

Of suitcase wheels

Going away...

It’s summer in Oxford.