It matters not, my friend to me just who you are, <br />a reputation of acclaim preceded you, <br />like Doktor Faustus wearing robes, a modern Czar, <br />you make me shiver as I feel the secret dew. <br /> <br />As for myself, I did enjoy the lustful tone <br />of sagging springs inside the mattress as you drummed. <br />I say that Phallus, then as rigid as a bone <br />would hear the farewell of Carmina as she hummed. <br /> <br />The song of honeysuckle, as it spills with ease <br />to be awaited by a tremulous, moist tongue. <br />Oh Priapeia, let us rest beneath tall trees <br />and taste of waters where the nightingale has sung. <br /> <br />Immersed in streams like rowdy hooligans in May, <br />with silver pouches bursting wildly at the seams, <br />in steepled grace both hands embracing as they pray <br />warmed by soft thighs and extraordinary dreams.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/warm-thighs/
