I stroll along coral sands, pick up a sea shell
here and there. Each one reminds me of Miranda,
and of a day, decades passed by, my Miranda quite blue.
All I now do, in these humid spring times
is frolic in a lap pool, fumble with a blow-up
version of the cutest of curvaceous mermaidens.
I drive to the Pencil Creek Falls and wander down,
far down ~ among ferns, moss and palms, to a secret
pool and plunge in, cuddle and play with the toy.
We wear no clothes ... and always on Mondays
when my wife goes quilting far-away on the Coast
for who comes to spy or visit then?
I mean the Falls, not the toy mermaid and me,
but the height of the waterfall and its wildlife
of course, and I am reminded of a mermaid refuge
to draw there real mermaids with firm breasts
and slinky, cool tails for they are rather
'finnish', as it were ....
Have you, dear reader, noted a mermaid's tail?
It is a poignant thing for she has no way, you see ....
You do see? Fine. Her case frustrates me.
And how does a red-blooded man unclothe
a mermaid with blue bra, blue make-up, blue tail,
eyelashes flickering, eyes smoldering, hair fresh
and dripping wet, with the sound of water gurgling
in her delicate throat, her kissable throat,
her pulsating throat
as if her climax of sensual convulsions
comes
for her there?
I know of a young widow who chose to become one ~
a mermaid born of merriment, eternally to tease men,
at least those who swam with her, in the nude.
And, can a mermaiden be virginal? If so,
how does 'Her Elegance' become un-virginal?
You, no doubt, have caught my drift of thought?
I am thankful, I suppose, that she does not smoke.
Small mercies are diamonds in mermaidenhood
and, truly, her eyes of desire glint like hot coals.
And her magnetic breasts, both north and south
polar regions; what of them? Do mermaids beget
or, as nuns in a monastery, simply die ...
while folk such as I can but hope
for novice maidens at sea (non-inflatable ones!)
to flock ~ rather, breaststroke to the sisterhood?
I am presently desperate in that respect.
Do not under-estimate me ~ no one is
too old or too young to please a mermaid
for she, too, breathes oxygen and kisses
with a warm, sweet breath, tangy with
freshness of sea salt
upon her soft breasts.
Along coral sands, if you pick up a sea shell,
remember this picture
of the mermaid, Miranda,
and me.
Honorable mention
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