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She's got it, whatever it is, she's got it.
Something in the way she moves it
Makes me think once again that I'm too hot to handle,
Makes me want what she's got even more,
Makes me wish for a bigger body part
And a bigger part in this movie!
But she's gone now—she was just a dream,
Whether young or old,
A fantasy that I have sometimes—it passes by me like a dart
As I grow old and slow
Without a wife, without a diamond or a heart.
If I thought I could hold her attention,
If I thought I could hold her still,
Things would be great
And I'd have a great big what-you-need
Or a basketful of spirit
Or a bellyful of fire—
Call it what you will!
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I decided that Twilight was partly right--these aren't going to be songs, but they are separate poems! Squeezes and smooches to my (nearly) last surviving reader!
ReplyDeleteI can hum them though! ;-)
ReplyDelete