On Loving a She
It works because she loves me,
Always so gentle. Yet rough.
When first we made love, her arms round me strong,
I exhaled, quivering at her every touch.
She carried me to bed, I felt so small, so frail…
Who would have thought!
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Blink. Blink. Blink.
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Uncle Di scowled eloquently.
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My Weekly Book Stash
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The Hipster Owl's Bookshelf 