Her feather-light touch
Over brow onto cheek
A finger to lips
Shows forbidden to speak
A candle lit supper
With ruby red wine
Strawberries for later
When she will be mine
Tempting and teasing
Her sparkling eyes
Suggest something later
She has a surprise
What is she planning?
With patience I wait
And eat every morsel
She puts on my plate
But two dozen oysters
They slithered down quick
Spoiling her plans
Cos I’m feeling to sick
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem