Shyly, he caressed her nipples
eyes locked into hers, sublime.
Dearest, knowest my great need
until you are mine, we are not thru.
Come to my arms, before I turn maniac.
Tis true, I am crazy, forgettest not.
In this season of your heat am I
only one to mount this mare, tho,
never to know my filly's lovin'.
A contest entry
- Mirror Acrostics by LanguishedLad.
950 points, ended April 23, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Criticize freely, I need input to improve
Comments
-
Well gosh.. very passionate write. Love what you did here.


-
i liked this one you said it just so simple
I'll keep reading




