Genuine Leather
A fine piece of hide, the best gift of its kind,
tread not with a blemish or flaw.
Unwealthy man’s treasure, indeed a rare find,
tainted with the stench of mistress’ claw.
With love abound and trustful eye
you drink of its genuine nobility,
question not its birth, nor occasion’s rise
but devour the scent and sexuality.
In slumber you stir and eyelids flutter,
caress the unslept, abandoned bed.
An anxious phone call, startled he stutters,
“Working late my dear, don’t worry your head.”
A diamond he offers, a prestigious stone
with golden band entwined.
Worth more than a poor man’s castle and throne,
Pristine cut and clarity divine.
With slanted eyes and weary heart
you accept his foolish gift;
dispose a tear and then depart,
keen to his lustful mischief.
Distasteful Adam, befallen to desire!
Poor is an unwealthy man indeed,
which leaps into the heart of temptress’ fire
And leaves a purer heart to bleed.