I wrote this some time ago, and would be interested in feedback from those of you who follow me here.

Not Sonnet 130

My lady's eyes look bluer than sapphire,
Her lips gleam bright in glossy Coral Red,
Held up by underwire her breasts are higher,
From the bottle her golden hair is fed.
As on the screen the models perfect glow,
Just so flawless the maiden's skin does shine,
Whiter than whitest white her teeth do show,
Her every breath an air of spearmint fine.
In gentle modulated tones her lips,
Murmur the same sweet words into my ear,
And as the catwalk models swing their hips,
So too she teasing walks as she draws near.
But her fair construct of plastic rapture,
Will ever fail my regard to capture.