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Ms. Interpreted
by
nan gellings |
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With last burst of testosterone,
Old Man Winter grunts and heaves
beneath his snow patched blanket,
building enough gumption to leave.
His sodden fingers frankly scratch
through grimy layers of skin,
working like hell to satisfy
the itch that keeps tormenting him
Ms. Spring throws back the covers
revealing her tender young buds,
born out of Winter’s passion.
Pure innocence caked in mud.
Old Man Winter lingers on
as old men have habit to
after all, these buds are lovely
and his eyes are stuck like glue.
Oblivious to his stare,
Ms. Spring turns on the shower.
The Old Man begins to drool.
He lusts for one last hour.
As her buds stand tall and firm,
Ms Spring exudes a glow.
What became of the old man?
Two shrunken snowballs might know.
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--Submitted by nanonawhim on 2011-03-03.
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jeeger:
Hi Nan! I am SO HAPPY to see this! You made me smile!
Posted 03/07/2011 04:25 PM
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MLove:
This is FABULOUS! I love it!
Posted 03/04/2011 02:00 PM
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lanet:
Oh my! I don't think that I've ever looked forward to Spring so much as I am now.
Posted 03/04/2011 06:46 AM
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