Romance
As they cuddle there
by the lake
to the tune of crickets,
gentle lapping waves,
and quacking ducks,
he thinks of the stars in her eyes,
her soft, silky skin
the glistening of her dark hair, not
her nagging him to take out the trash,
pantyhose hanging on the curtain rod
or PMS.
She thinks of his deep, baby blues,
the strength of his shoulders,
the warmth of his body against hers, not
Monday night football games,
belches in front of company
shoes to underwear scattered
throughout the house.
That’s why, my dear children,
there’s such thing as
commitment.
No comments:
Post a Comment