Mysterious girl, and a curious ode..

I think I'm in love. A posh bird with legs like a promise of heaven asked me for directions to the hair products. It was ten past three this morning, and my heart leapt the way a flea leaps from an enthusiastic vet's powder. I doubt I'll ever see her again, but even if I don't, it was worth it for our brief, beautiful encounter. Whoever you are - we shall always have the shampoo aisle..

As a little challenge to see myself through the work-based ennui, I thought I'd compose a poem using only words that start with the letter 'W'. It turned out to be much harder than I thought. This is what I have so far:
"Why would women want wonderful windows?
When what we waggle would whiten wooden wellies?
Willies?
Wow!"
It might sell to a few Edward Lear fans, but otherwise I think I'm chasing a lost cause. It killed a few hours at work though, which I suppose was the idea of the exercise. For the final boring stretch I returned to my old friend haiku:

Supermarket nights.
I fill the shelves with your goods,
while you are asleep.

I don't buy Persil.
It gets things very white, but..
I like things dirty.

If I were a God
I'd rid the world of evil.
(Jamie Oliver)

Why do old women,
who once wore perfume so sweet,
smell of sweat and piss?

Once upon a time
are the first words of this tale
which is now over.

RC 23-7-09