Our First Child
T'was a night ruled by glands
How amply she filled her blouse
As we walked holding hands
I praised a man named Levi Strauss
Her form so well defined
From head to toe, gracious curves
My hands caressed her back
Hardening more than my nerves
I tasted her mouth, shoulder and skin
My hands reporting like spies
Feeling her trembling from within
The soul-searching look in her eyes
To her breasts I give a slight caress
Her response grew twixt finger and thumb
Together we awkwardly undress
My desire: a canyon to plumb
I could describe how she did magic
Or how often I gave her delight
But my only thought; and this is tragic
My God, I got lucky tonight!
Copyright ©2002 Fred B Baker II
View My Guestbook
Sign My Guestbook
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
