You’ve seen her once, you’ll see
Her soon, a taste of honey, lick
The spoon. What would you
Give to be the man, who gets to
Win her heart, her hand?
It’s eight a.m. the bus is full,
She’s at the front, not close
Enough, no seat nearby, no
Plan in mind, just hope she’ll
See you, spare a smile.
Oh, sweet temptation, thoughts
Amass, chilling thrills run down
Your back, she stands nearby, arms
Length away, tongue-tied, can’t
Find a word to say.
Fruit for picking, fruit so ripe,
Temptation, want and need run
Rife, What is it when you love
A girl, heart starts pounding,
Mouth won't work?
© Joseph G Dawson
Vote for this poem