on a desk i lay

And thus on a desk i lay
a different kind of passion not wanting to delay
my bossom pressed to the desks surface
to absorb the wisdom on it written the purpose.

But of course this passion i need to share
and thus only a scarf the rest of me, bare
and he who entered the room i did dare
in my naked passion to come and share.

He be the writer who the desk did use
his thoughts with mine i asked him to fuse
and thus the scarf did slowly slip
his head in the small of my back did dip.

A new kind of writing a new passionate written
even more so in my mind i became smitten
the words, to surrender, does fall short
how deep in that moment i did get caught.

He penned every line every curve of my form
new fantasies new need in my imagination born
the desk no longer a flat surface for writing
but for much more physical happenings citing.

RB.