- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Melinda Kensington Alworthy Jones
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Melinda Kensington Alworthy Jones
Wrapped by Dior and Chanel’s fine colognes
Sipping her Perrier at half past three,
Playfully plopped on her soft suede settee.
Luscious full lips and that platinum hair,
Precar’ously perched, with one shoulder bare.
Long legs pulled up and ankles crossed neatly,
A coy, subtle smile, she winks quite discreetly.
She huskily speaks, a soft, sensual sound.
I stupidly stare, as if I’m spellbound.
A sip and a stretch and then she unwinds
A moronic man, male thoughts fill my mind.
A knowing look and a bare-shoulder shrug,
Then I’m embraced with a mind-melting hug.
A kiss on her hand blown my direction,
This stupid-faced guy has joined her collection.
Melinda Kensington Alworthy Jones,
Whispers to me in those soft, subtle tones,
“Meet me at ten, hun, outside the back door,
For we have so many things to explore.”
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