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Click hereSuppose a girl should sit with her legs spread
And wait for him to verify her state;
She must imagine where such thoughts have led
And how she has discouraged all debate;
By opening her knees, she offers him
A glimpse of what may be a promised land:
A place for man and manna; and the whim
To take her softer contours under hand;
Until her legs are closed again; and seem
The warmest haven for his finger tips,
That dip into her lace, as they redeem
The sighs she has held back, until she slips...
Into the clutches she most craves and begs
When she sits so and, slowly, spreads her legs.