|
![]() |
ramblings unfinishedshe with rare panache deftly fills her bin with trash sweeps the floor cleans the place moves around with style and grace she chats to me and all the while brightens me with her smile I drink my tea say I must go just don't want her to know how close Iam to betraying a trust for I watch her with eyes of lust close my eyes imagine the bliss she gives me a kiss so I sup my tea find my hat say thanks for company and chat squeeze a hand that and no more she escorts me to her back door I'm on the street crisis at an end I didn't make a pass at my dear friend she of style and grace how I wish to spend the night at your place rest my throbbing head on your breast in your bed kill my devils probably weep then in your arms to healing sleep Vote for this poem
|
|
| |