To My Fellow...
Posted: Sat Aug 06, 2005 4:23 pm
Woman must play, it seems to me;
Romance as damned currency.
Not simple lust as at first thought;
That blind penchant to maul her taught,
But gleens staid motivation true,
To put or take a hand to you.
She renders even linguists base
With furrows gorged across the face;
And glazen, incandescent eyes
Do flummox man, more shy than wise.
Such gentle form belies all sense,
As manufactured fancies tense.
So suppled are our fingertips:
Warm repititions from her lips.
Oblivious to us she skips,
On sleek formed pinions from those hips.
As primordial balance tips
Can we, as men, resist such trips?
Romance as damned currency.
Not simple lust as at first thought;
That blind penchant to maul her taught,
But gleens staid motivation true,
To put or take a hand to you.
She renders even linguists base
With furrows gorged across the face;
And glazen, incandescent eyes
Do flummox man, more shy than wise.
Such gentle form belies all sense,
As manufactured fancies tense.
So suppled are our fingertips:
Warm repititions from her lips.
Oblivious to us she skips,
On sleek formed pinions from those hips.
As primordial balance tips
Can we, as men, resist such trips?