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deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Morning Promenade
Dreams made for languid moods, upon the way
To wakefulness on Sunday, tell one sleep
Despises a chill morning; I display
Reluctance to perform, and this can keep
Him quite on edge until, stroking my hair,
He whispers words of warning; woe betide
Me if delay means ragged needs must share
Harsh fantasies with lost dreams; my mind's eye
Will be shattered by fingers interlocked
In strands of dark; he'll cause my scalp to ache,
Until I follow him where he's hard-cocked,
Ready for mouth to open - let him take
His morning promenade upon my tongue,
So languid moods are over 'til he's done.
To wakefulness on Sunday, tell one sleep
Despises a chill morning; I display
Reluctance to perform, and this can keep
Him quite on edge until, stroking my hair,
He whispers words of warning; woe betide
Me if delay means ragged needs must share
Harsh fantasies with lost dreams; my mind's eye
Will be shattered by fingers interlocked
In strands of dark; he'll cause my scalp to ache,
Until I follow him where he's hard-cocked,
Ready for mouth to open - let him take
His morning promenade upon my tongue,
So languid moods are over 'til he's done.
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