Read Me - Poem by Ellen Shaw
Ruffle the pages of the papers
tell that it is time to fly away
and you don't look up
from the polished mahogany of your desk
fly away, fly away, fly away.
If I were an object
your paperweight, let's say
stay you'd say
not fly away.
And if I were one of your dusty books
you would read me
and understand me
as you finger my coffeee coloured flesh
wanting to delve deeper into me
i would pleasure you
in this here study
as you lay me upon your desk
eyes and heart taking in my every word
stay you'd say,
not fly away, fly away, fly away.
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