deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Marigold
The marigold bloomed beautifully, crushed,
Now, beneath her, close to the earth again;
She's taken slowly - Master won't be rushed
And she'll stay poised and ready; if the rain
Should come to wash the beds, then the damp soil
May leave an imprint of the flower, pressed
Into the rutting earth, but it won't spoil
An afternoon when she's, once more, regressed
To being used again: she tries to please
His earthy needs in every way she can;
So let him fuck her here and lets him seize
Her hair and make her wetter - he's the man
who has her in his power - so controlled
That she will crush that favoured marigold.
Now, beneath her, close to the earth again;
She's taken slowly - Master won't be rushed
And she'll stay poised and ready; if the rain
Should come to wash the beds, then the damp soil
May leave an imprint of the flower, pressed
Into the rutting earth, but it won't spoil
An afternoon when she's, once more, regressed
To being used again: she tries to please
His earthy needs in every way she can;
So let him fuck her here and lets him seize
Her hair and make her wetter - he's the man
who has her in his power - so controlled
That she will crush that favoured marigold.
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