Tit-Talk, A Painting

It's tit-talking. Have you tried it?
A practice fanciful, but private,
Until three models, caught outright,
Bared their breasts with great delight.

Clothing can be such a bore,
That these three models wanted more.
A set of bazooms, full of verve,
Caused the others to emerge,

From under jackets, dresses, smiles,
They popped about to foist their wiles.
Upon each other they were calling.
Each nipple on another mauling.

Why they did this no one knew.
They laughed out loud in public view.
Magazines would duplicate,
Snapshots of these fashion plates.

As they swerved from common sense,
To act the fool, to lose pretense.
Nipples touched, nipples spoke.
Bosom tenderness awoke,

A sense of honor and respect,
For a chesty dialect.
The language of these fluffy forms,
Is softness, dreams, erotic charms.

Exposed to others of their clan,
They left their clothes, the fun began.
As nipples kissed like Eskimos,
A fashion statement soon arose.

All styles proclaimed The Way Bare-Breasted,
The trend was set, it had been tested.
Even when the fad was banned,
Tit-talk went underground throught the land.

Chewing gum, and sporting bows,
The models never turned up their nose.
A widespread primal trance became,
The product of their silly game.

'Til millions touched to set boobs free,
"Tit-talk is not obscenity."
A nation then forgot to hide.
Forgot the day tits stayed inside.

Women and men were both chest-free.
From the waist up, no modesty.
And I've heard tell that tits are talking,
About a region they are walking,

Below the belt, where sun don't shine,
From the front or from behind.
The tits want cover-ups to end,
The body is yourself, your friend.

Tit-talk stands up for nudity,
As part of art and living free.

Tit-Talk, A Painting