Wednesday, 16 January 2013

Ice cream

Mother always said, “Don’t play with your food,

Everyone will look and it's considered rude.”

But I don’t think she meant the kind of rude that came to pass

When we tried to share our ice cream, after one too many glass

It was hot after all and it was always going to melt

And as it trickled down your arm you can imagine how I felt

Then when you lifted up your arm and let it drip onto your chest

I wondered, should I wait until it ran across the breast?

Then you looked at me all helpless, said “I need your lips

Because my fingers will get sticky if I have to wipe the nips.”

And like the gentleman I am, I bent forward with a lean

Then softly and tenderly slowly licked them clean

Then you cheated, took a handful, and smeared it down below

And once again looked all helpless so I knew where I must go

Working hard to clean you heard a giggle then a groan

Then when I went to clean the last bit you let out a soulfull moan