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Comments about DWP Praymore
Fear forces sweat-drops meandering
from brow into myopic eyes
of my poor head-sockets
to understate the obvious answer
required by the obvious question:
'So, old codger, you let her slip away, eh? '
Ah, but I did, I did, indeed I did,
yet is she not quite gone;
are those the silent steps of soft approach
her feet of deep desire avail?
Can love harness insatiable lust
only satiation would adjust?
Sighs and moans describe her skin
that like a sheen of negligee light
drapes forms of almond flesh
too near to ignore, too far to touch: ...