Wife

,

Whiptail fun times,

She laid back and threw that hair

Fire doesn’t have that shade,

Red on shimmer on length,

A fold on the mobius loop,

No drinks for breakfast man, reality is already soup.

She’s got a lily to her eye,

A tone to her smile,

Edge to her skullmeats,

Nothing average, not at all.

Beggars for fun,

And in a whisper,

Airy as a feather,

“Let’s do without the sorrow for awhile.”