With your back against the wall,
Or the belly on the ball,
That which shall enter your mouth,
Won't ever go through the anus.
So is the blow,
That's meant for your cheeks.
It shall never be subbed for a kiss,
Albeit on the elbow.
Such is the file of life:
If soil can be remade,
Into Lois, a pretty handmaid,
Who then can claim doyen?
Except the artist in heaven.
So keep seeking, that job you fancy,
Keep calling, that girl called Nancy.
Appear decent to the God above.
Be charming to that man you love.
It doesn't matter your fumes,
Over the numerous attempts.
You can call it contretemps,
But wildflowers give out perfumes.
Once or twice,
All days may not bring good tidings.
Also will the cries have endings.
So anytime you are out of options,
Remember this poem you're reading.
Great piece, loved every line 😍
ReplyDelete