But To Be A Prisoner Of Your Lady Loved, Dove.

Slowly and slowly as i approach her quivered bed...
Just regarded before her stead.
Slantedly and scantly i settled her dear, dear head...
Belay this moment i detest my dread.
Perspirational beads drip on down like mini buckets of sweat, way before they fall through an imaginary basketball backboard's net...
Hidey hoe and like away in a far off chartered chariot racing away should i do go.
Unsettled the way that angrilly i may soon have to show...
Slow down that anger's heat.
Let her do to show me her muffled meat...
I love the woman's dainty little feet.
Oh, so delicate a wonderous vision, for mine eyes to well share this treat...
A heart shaped ass, well proportionately molded well by God, to amass this fine lady lass totally encased with class.
I am what but a prisoner of your love, my lady dove!

by Michael Gale

Comments (2)

MICHAEL...A WORK OF MASTERFUL VERSE IN TRUE...YOU HAVE A BROAD SPECTRUM OF TALENT, MICHAEL & MUCH TO MESSAGE OF VIRTUOUS WORTH...I KNOW THAT YOUARE AWARE OF IT...BUT IT IS TRULY NICE TO HEAR IT ANYWAY: YOU'VE GOT THE GIFT THAT MILLIONS WANT, BUT THAT SO FEW RECIEVE, AND FEWER MASTER...KEEP IN TOUCH, MY FRIEND FRANK
well writen poem, Geoff would comment but he had to go have a cold shower.