Yep, Still Thinking About You Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I know, I know.
Chrysanthemums do grow.
I've caught the breeze my love
that fans the flames,
a male and horny dove
above the games.

I could not give a wee
about the crap,
but will you send to me
your nectar' sap?

I shall, without due haste
look for your sign
a Google cut and paste,
a single line.

It matters not, of course
they say the thought
is in the Trojan Horse.
Perhaps for naught.

So many years have come
only to fade
inside a shade of rum
and lemonade.

I talk a heavy spiel,
just to impress.
But my Achilles Heel
is YOURS to bless.

I would pay all I own
to make the time
and point ole Baldur's bone
into my wine.