An Ode to Madonna.

Dear Madge;

Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night in panic?
And realise you’ve left the gas on the stove?
Or do you just wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep?
Do you ever have sleep in the corners of your perfect eyes?
Do you ever forget to take your make-up off?
And wake up with perfect panda-eyes?
Do you ever make your own toast?
And do you ever indulge in ‘fruit loops?’
Madge;

Do you ever tell Lourdes off for being on the phone too long?
And then ground her if she talks back?
Or do you let her get away with it?
Do you ever yell at her for being a nasty brat?
Do you ever drive her to soccer practise?
And stand on the sidelines with the other celebrity mums?
Do you ever drive through peak-hour traffic?
And honk your horn and grit your teeth and swear at the other drivers?

Madge;

Do you still Vogue?
And do you dance around your room in your underwear?
Or would you rather sit down with your iPod and listen to something else?
Do you ever drink too much champagne and get giggly?
Do you ever eat a whole tin of biscuits while watching Bridget Jones?
And mime along with every line ‘cause you’ve seen it a thousand times?
Do you ever write in your diary?
And keep a lock on it to guard all your secrets safe?

Madge;

Do you and Jesus ever fight?
And do you scream and yell and say things you don’t mean?
Or do you communicate your feelings?
Do you ever sit silently and wonder what to do?
Do you ever cheat on him?
And feel a pang of guilt and hurt as you walk away using those long, lovely legs?
Do you ever let it slip out that deep down you really love him?
And feel your cheeks redden and your neck tingle because he doesn’t say it back?

Madge;
Do you ever get lonely?

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