Naughty, Naughty Poem by Denis Martindale
Naughty, Naughty
The dreams of you, they were my own
And comfort me when I'm alone,
The good I would I cannot do,
Because I'm naughty through and through!
The poets often write of love
As if itself could be enough,
But I'm convinced it will not do
Each time I dream of me... and you!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: poets
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8/12/2026 5:38:39 PM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
