I will not hide

Declare the truth from deep inside

Broadcast my desire

The hills of Athens are on fire

I want to cup your perfect breast

From my palm to my mouth

Ideas simply suggest

So, remove your quill from your given

Install wishes to your lady’s driven

Touch your soft skin to mine

Let words intertwine

Round honey stare

Your skin sensitive and bare

From hourly champagne

To your splint with her in the rain

This is the break, the part, the area when you become a whore

From corner to corner, you always want more

Bring up the coffee to your rose lips

My caffeinated tongue shall trace the outline of your hips

But who am I? But just a Folgers Pimp

My beating heart has a continuous limp

Alone in my world of compositions

With coffee, we’ll have multiple positions!

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.08.30.19:51:33@130BklynNYC