Do not enter greedily.
I am not ready
To entrust you yet
With my secret.
Place your fingers around my knob,
But dare not come inside to rob.
Slowly trace, along my crevice slide,
But do not spread me open wide.
First press yourself against me gently,
Listen for a sign of entry. I will tell you when it's time,
With the rhythm of my rhyme. Until then linger without a sound;
Letting imagination keep you around.
I'll ignite you with my tongue,
Whispering ancient tunes unsung.
And when my resistance wearing thin,
Aches enough to let you in,
Tired of taunting dropp by drop,
I'll beg of you in to never stop.
This is Shelley Cates Martin, author of this poem. www.findingmrright.net
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love it! It tells of someone not fully ready but, yearning for that forbidden touch that everyone craves.