Mark R Slaughter (1957)
A juicy peach, a pair of thighs,
Packed inside her tautened jeans:
A crafted view to whet the roving eye.
He chases down the wiggle, though she
Knows it in her giggle, so she
Gives a sense of unawares a try.
He must his hand arrest – or might he
Plausibly molest or slap
The symmetry that is her perky bulge?
But is she flaunting in a quest
To show her bum's the very best?
His dream's alive! but that he won't divulge!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.