Musings by The Poet Loriet
The Miss Clause
My holiday outfit...
errr, if that's what
you would call it,
is folded virginally
in my second
dresser drawer,
never been worn.
I wonder what
your reaction would be
if I surprised you
with a seduce-me-red
silk mini and bra
trimmed in white
faux fur...
and capped off
with a matching chapeau,
dancing jauntily upon
dark cascading hair.
Wearing barely more than
an I've-been-naughty smile,
I'll slide next to you
somewhere between
escargot and morning's
Honey Nut Cheerios.
Would you
smile mischeviously
or give me an
admonishing look?
No, that would be
"The Worst"...
I think I'll remain
your Secret Miss Santa,
waiting to be discovered,
my feelings for you
kept under wraps.
Open me.
Lori Beal
errr, if that's what
you would call it,
is folded virginally
in my second
dresser drawer,
never been worn.
I wonder what
your reaction would be
if I surprised you
with a seduce-me-red
silk mini and bra
trimmed in white
faux fur...
and capped off
with a matching chapeau,
dancing jauntily upon
dark cascading hair.
Wearing barely more than
an I've-been-naughty smile,
I'll slide next to you
somewhere between
escargot and morning's
Honey Nut Cheerios.
Would you
smile mischeviously
or give me an
admonishing look?
No, that would be
"The Worst"...
I think I'll remain
your Secret Miss Santa,
waiting to be discovered,
my feelings for you
kept under wraps.
Open me.
Lori Beal
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The Miss Clause
The Miss Clause
