The following SHOULD NOT BE SUNG. It’s simply prose. (Prosey? Prosie? Prose-ish?) I can tell right now you are over thinking this.

I like:

Bendy straws and

Green lights

Puppy paws and

wee girls in tights.

Badger Cuticle Cream,

Do you know what I mean?

I love cool reading glasses

And single malt scotch.

Short sleeved blouses,

Jeans not too short in the crotch.

Shitless diapers and

Blooming iris

Eating pastry until I’m pieless.

Flealess dogs and

Flaming fireplace logs.

Red wine,

Namely Beaujolais.

Loving my husband,

A roll in the hay-

No worry about conception.

Red geraniums and

Cell phones that get good reception.

Sleeping late,

Nothing much to do,

Dinner dates and

Never thinking it through.

Talking on the phone and

Mindless blather.

Washing my hair with

Good smelling lather.

Having freshly shaved legs and

Cute painted toes.

Not having to blow a snotty kids nose.

Writing my blog and

finding great friends,

I’m just thinking,

the fun never ends!

P. Avium

But, that’s not what I call you.

I lust after you,

Dark red and sweet

And day dream

That your trees

Line my street.

I consume you

By the pound

In quantities that

Would astound.

When on sale

For a mere,

99 cents a pound.

No, this poetry thing

Is not my forte,

Yet, after sitting and

Eating them all day,

This, I can

Assuredly say,

I like the sweet ones,

Not the tart.

What’s that noise?

Why, that’s a fart.