Exposed - Poem by Donald Yates
I hope not my hand I'll tip
for I thought I heard a rip.
I could just stand behind a tree
and perhaps no one will see.
The wind flows through the air so free
across my back side and over me.
Oh Oh, someone I hear
they'll see me I fear.
Don't let them stand and leer
at my skinny exposed rear.
Comments about Exposed by Donald Yates
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You