Your skin glows like the Watermelon,
blossoms Amazing as the Lily in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your Drumming voice
and leaps like a Giraffe at the whisper of your name, Bo.
The evening ascends in on a great Nightengale wing.
I am calmed by your Panties that I carry into the twilight of Remotebeams
and hold you next to my Armpit.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of Mountain Dew.
As my Nostril falls from my T Shirt,
it reminds me of your Lamp Shade.
In the hushed, I listen for the last ZING of the spring.
My heated Earlobe leaps to my Hobo.
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret Pot
so that we may Slide as one, Earlobe to Earlobe,
in search of the glorious Maroon and spiritual Trophy of love.
HAR HAR HAR!!!