Call Me Whatever...And Hold On Tight Poem by I AM THAT MOUSE

he pulled her hair just enough to arouse himself
and she smiled, a coy and inviting grin,
this was her finest hour when her beauty was his fortress
and his strong hands were the guards at the gate.

she lead his motions with her eyes, he saw touch
he tasted sight, each blink drew him nearer
this was her finest hour when her beauty was his capter
and his chains were locked with his very own arms.

a summer night passed and a day-lived now gone through
her hair was pulled back as her fortress fell
no sight, no arms, no chains for her smile just wasn't enough
the gates closed on her in her finest hour

and the guards went home.