Her shadow I trailed
To have her lewd legs nailed
On a naked cross of shame
By a nagging curiosity tired of her wanton game.
Room ten of an aged motel
Was the concealed cranky cell
Her gormless passion was fed
Iniquity on a mouldy bed
With her virgin bosoms pressed
By harlotry coyly dressed
In dark kecks and yellow shirt
Eyeing the hollow between her crimson skirt.
I, an objector, obtruded the impious coitus
With ocular proofs and pointers
Jutting a callow girlish maid
And a naughty crocked cove getting laid.
And all too soon
Came silence occluding oiled passions to go into a swoon;
Spawning suspense,
Painting pretense.
Comments
Post a Comment