Why praise sons who dig, at father’s false claims
While child ‘fraid to gamble, sweet treasure chest
Should be criticised, for not making gains,
When sat in her seat, alone she feels blessed.
All’s obtainable; how do all obtain?
Age burrows regardless, haphazard in field
Chastity is nothing, Red Letters blamed,
Experience everything, tis nowt we shield!
Sins done in shadow, need not come to light
Fully clothed, we are emperor underneath
My Siren why hide, my most valuable sight
To carry dearly, till my maker meet.
Why must we turn green, at pleasures we seek,
At others who’ve lived them, tasted the sweet.
©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address
https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/01/prudish-salad/
