Keith Poem by Raven Brent

The rush hour traffic was trafficacious.
Keith Richards and I crossed a turn lane.
His eyes wandered on mine.
He grasped my hand, playfully messing around
like with the strings of a guitar.
Circling around the pond, it was eyecandy to have him hold me.

I thought to myself,
he's gonna kiss me.
Surely enough he did.
His kiss was vivacious at every exceeding wait.
The flaming stone was hot.
His red ribbon tied around his head was yo-yuck.

On a hot summer day we connected like waterworks
over a ridge.
He put a spell on me,
for every kiss was termicacious.
All I wanted was him.