Brush Poem by Kim Wilson

Brush



I like to use my brush, in the morning, afternoon, during work, after work and in the shower, on the bed and in the shower sometimes. I like my brush.
My brush is special, meaning I've named her.
You can call her honey, or candy she answers to both.
My brush has gotten me in some trouble a few times.
Wanting to be used by other people, touched by other people and brushed by another brush.
All and all my brush belongs to me, well taken care of, used often, love much more then before and beat up almost every night.
My brush is clean no hair on her.
sporting a ring and sits in a nice little package.
My brush is shown in clubs if I'm drinking, shown in my car if I'm drunk.
My brush has been toss up, laid down and thrown around, but still bounce back.
My brush is my brush to be shared with whom ever I want
When ever I want.
It's my brush.
My brush has been loaned, miss treated, busted on, slapped around and spit on.
My brush still stands.
My brush is the best been named the hottest, sweet, warm and voted best talked about brush.
If you ever get to meet my brush, blow her a kiss, she kisses back.
I love my brush.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success