My reference desk is piled high

My board is staggering  to the eye

With layouts to make,

And circuits to prove

And yet the work does not seem to move.


It crawls along at a snail’s pace

And stays there rooted before my face

I seem to have thousands of things to do

And yet I can only think of you.


I think of you and linger a while

On your pretty face and warmish smile

Formed by the softest and coolest of lips

Then my mind travels down to your rolling hips


Across the rise and fall of your lovely breast

A place for a head to rest

Then back again to your lovely brown eyes

My energy spent from endless sighs

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *