He remembered
His teacher
Miss Latimer
Mainly
For her conversations
On the origin
Of the species,
But more so
Because
She wore
Tight skirts
That held
Her hips and ass
With loving embrace,
And as she walked
Away to class
Some of boys
Gave whistles
Through fingered mouths,
But all he could do
Was take home
His captured image
Of her fine figure
As she moved
Across the grass
Looking back at him
With a smile
On her lips
And swaying hips
And ass,
And dream of her
In his tousled bed
With a numerous
Embraces and kisses
In his youthful head.
Comments
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OMG I can completley relate to this write. bakc in 1994 I had the hottest red haired teacher ever and Oh my gosh *mass drool* I had the biggest foourth grade grin on my little face and she lingered within me through the ackward ages and well needless to say those dreams at night kept reoccurin of the fantasy of being with her and takin; her on her desk right then and there ect. and well gratefully I never saw her again in life but oh man was that powerful temptation there. she always wore ttight skirts and wore the right whiteish color shirt that showed off just enough hint of her cleavage to turn on any man. anyways thanks for that trip down memory lane and your write was absolutely awesome. I enjoyed the spin as it indeed stimulate dmy memory
keep up the mighty fine pen work
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Thank you. Glad you could relate. Your reply could make a poem itself.LOl. I can go back to early 1960s and a dream teacher.
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