If with whom you ask I lay, I say that can happen only in May. It is not for sex I pray, I definitely don’t want to be AIDS’s prey. Make hay while sun shines they say, so if I will lay, not on this day.
If with whom you ask I spend my time with, none. Ladies do propose but what I do? I shun! My story on that is at now a statue, and I will get rid of the statue to protect my virtue. In the West of Grim a garden I trim, but I’ll run my leave as soon as I find a new pool to swim. The real one or perhaps I mistook as did not last a moment before the wind of time got us so done. There were many afterwards in what we were I couldn’t define, but God got me out for a future that is divine. Unto them they wanted me to refine, but I don’t worship what a chicken could vilify.
And then came the she from my mothers town, who claimed fitful to wear my crown. Into her baffling features I fell, it happened a story very boring to tell. The private business salted it; too sweet for me to eat. But at a point she made it sour; don’t bother to hear more, its too complicated to tour. An agony of love overtook me, but the reality of life rescued me. And when I was freed from the chains of the fake true love, I became so tough and retired into golf.
I see the whole of your heart you’ve given the woman, don’t come to me when your heart is broken and you resume your seaman. You say I don’t know what love is? What you don’t know is that I’ve been there. All the peripherals of our purported love are well known to me; I’m an old bird, I’ve played it many times on my bed. The touches in darkness; the twinkle in the eyes; the lips touching lips; the finger tracing the body; the buttons undone; the fingers running through the hair; the encampment of the balloons; the tiny fingers on the hairy chest; the flesh in flesh; the promises as a result of arousal; the talks in the shade of a tree; the exchange of smiles; the hands in hands; the emotional suffering; the waiting; the disappointment; the separation; the regrets; the tearful stories; the lecture of experience; the lookout; the hopes; I WAS THERE ONCE.
Lord eBay, LeScoth.
(Written in July, 2011.)