Welcome to My Poetry Site
A money massage
If you had plans for me what would you have
Me be? Shall I be exciting with prospects of
Astonishing proportion, shall I be on the cusp
Of a family fortune, or how about, just about,
To make a killing on the stock market; but what
If I were a poor man what then, would you spurn
Me, and cast me into the midden?
Destitute lovers not required on board. Poor men
Need not apply for a place in your bed. But again,
What if I didn't fancy you? A cat can look at a queen
Without sipping her milk. All I had in mind was to love
A girl who loved me for who I am, faults and all. I am
Not perfect, far from it, but I am a trier, who thus far
Tried and failed, and at present have nothing at all to
Recommend me save my honesty and my love for you.
Tomorrow is another day, chocker block, nay, full to
The brim with new opportunity. Opportunity to search
For and to find those rivers of rivers so idolised by
The banks, lush incoming streams copious of cash,
Gushing of pounds, Euro’s and divers denominations
From around the world, more than sufficient to sweep
Me to fortune and you into my arms. For yes, I know
The value of wealth and I am not ashamed to admit it.
Just think of it. Sleeping beside a man drenched in the
Rich heady perfume of the Dollar bill. Your breasts fresh
With the flower bomb of your lovers favourite topic Money,
Counted every night before it slips down a chute into the
Night safe. Gone, but not forgotten, the smell of money
Lingers long into the night, and after a nightcap or two, the
Smell of money makes its way to the bedroom, where your
Lover takes you in his arms and treats you to the aftermath
Of a day's hard work, a money massage, rubbed all over,
Tweaked and twiddeld by the self same hands that brought
Todays fresh swealth into being, how relaxing, how stimulating,
How restorative. Now I wonder how many girls of your
Acquaintancecan say that?
© Joseph G Dawson