Poetic-Verses
The demand of passion
I clean you down , and return you home.
My left hand fingers are worn to the bone;
I lavish you with care and attention
I caress you with no apprehension .
It must have been a man who designed you thus!
with your phallic rod and truss!
Your curves they slide upon ones knee
The torso of a woman for all to see;
I wish I could make you sound real cool,
But just like a woman, I am treated like your fool!
In reading this you may think iv gone to far,
I only wish I could play my guitar……….properly!!!!!
My left hand fingers are worn to the bone;
I lavish you with care and attention
I caress you with no apprehension .
It must have been a man who designed you thus!
with your phallic rod and truss!
Your curves they slide upon ones knee
The torso of a woman for all to see;
I wish I could make you sound real cool,
But just like a woman, I am treated like your fool!
In reading this you may think iv gone to far,
I only wish I could play my guitar……….properly!!!!!
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The demand of passion
The demand of passion
