My Lady Is A Wall Flower! ! ! Poem by Milova Matthias

Who is this bijou lazy?
That bifurcates my bigot.
The roses are blooming and so is milady.
I came bonafide as a polyglot.

Milady wears the clarion and jingles.
Yet no one seem to notice the clap trap singles.
All because My lady is a wall flower.
Not because she is a wanton improper.

A sweet scented smell of spices.
Accented on milady's denizen claret.
And when I nigh, it's like the old man's colorful fishes.
So I polished her charming hand to dancing ballet.

We round and rounded the floor, circling tables.
Whinny as I make her spin her head.
Clamped her thighs, faint backwards and knuckles.
Tango with me, as I added 'take the lead'.

For now milady is not anymore.
A wall flower, but a wild one(love)