A Little Bump & Grind
He bumps and grinds persistently,
his head begins to thump.
He hopes that he can stem the pain
but, poor man, he can't refrain.
She mentally writes shopping lists
and hopes that he will soon desist
but bump and grind his need persists
although he knows he'll pay for this.
And when at last he's satisfied,
in tact his fragile manly pride
he leans upon his comfy bed,
with hand to head, a little white.
His blood soars through capillaries
quite like a vice, no pleasantries.
What a price to pay, thinks she
and makes a soothing cup of tea.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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