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The appetite which leads him to her bed 
Is not unlike the lust of boys for cake 
Except he knows that after he has fed 
He'll suffer more than simple belly-ache. 

He'll groan to think what others have to pay 
As price for his obsessive need to know 
That he's a champion still, though slightly grey, 
And both his skill and gameness clearly show. 

And after this quick non-decision bout, 
As he in his dark corner gasping lies, 
He'll hear derision like a distant shout 
While kisses press like pennies on his eyes.


Submitted by Andrew Mayers

Added: 21 Jul 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 10:15 PM | Viewed: 5687 times

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