Prudish Salad ©

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/

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s