The wind skirts
the lake
fingering the hem
of your skirt
before lifting it to
take a peak
underneath.
Wot a cheek!
Wot a cheek!
Naughty wind!
Naughty wind!
Naughty wind!
...naughty!
But I don't mind!
Press rewind!
Memory 69,699
- again!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And here I thought this was the number of kisses to be left in the Hollow Tree in Central Park as ransome....I am disappointed that you love another! ! Oh, WELL!