With anything in a skirt

Lamp and paper flowers by Katherine

 

To have your hose in my hair is very warming
No,not for all you see in her rhymes will I believe she's a poet in a storm
He's not just whistling pixie... he's a real he man drinking whiskey
I am not playing with a bull with specs.It's myopic...even mythaeopic
It is not the mightiest saying in the books.But it means so much if you love me.
Pascal was not keen to be the host of chance except for his famous wagers.
You are not the sharpest liar in the flock of men I meet weekly
I am not the harpiest wife to be the kitchen stabber
There is nothing impersonal in my love.I love you as warmly as if you were a piece of cake.In fact I prefer cake.
I have nothing to grieve at.. or with.My heart has fled and I am   just a bum
We had nothing to write poems about today...
just endless rain
on the window pane
made me think of you again
I love you and your brain
Yet love can bring such pain
And I barely knew your name
When will my love wane?
My heart was once so tame
Now it feels inflamed
I've got arthritis in the brain
Very stiff and in such pain.
Well.at least he came
I'll miss his little game
And he cracked the window frame
And half a hundred panes.
My hair was once a mane
But I feel whiskey is profane.
I look like a real Jane.
I had nothing up my sleeve but I had a pin inside my skirt
To prick them where it hurts.

I hate the men that flirt

With anything in a skirt