Blue Dress Blues

My wife is a hard working dedicated nurse
Her blue dress is sexy? No it's a curse.

Her dress is erotic? To her that's perverse -
Men who think so see only the nurse;

Not the woman who's wearing the dress
Dealing with illness, clearing up mess.

It's the sign of her skill and position
Yet men think she'd welcome coition.

If asked for a date the man's taste she'll deride
For one in a thousand sees the woman inside.

When she's worn it she's tired and drawn:
Any chance of fun between us is forlorn.

If she changes then we might make hay
After letting her tell of her frustrating day.

With me she can be tearful, ratty and terse
For that dress makes her angry and worse.

Once she's shed it she can gradually repose
Wrapped in my loving arms she will doze.

Awaking a woman, not the overworked slave,
To live as a person whose loving I crave.

Yet I'm a nurse too, without a blue dress,
It's much easier for me, that I confess,

A male nurse excites no fantasies, it's true,
Yet I wish she didn't wear dresses of blue.