From the persistent philanderer

Old bones aching and a grinding
I got old bones and skinny little legs
Carrying sixty years of travelling
Old bones thinking of something she said

She said poor boy never to be satisfied
Poor boy wrestling with your soul
Cold in the summer chilled through in the winter
Take a laxative but stay near your home

So many choices open to the needy
So many heartaches hidden in her skin
Always hungry for a taste of goodness
Open mouthed but certain you will win

Old bones…..

They called it twerking I called it memories
She had a pastime fed by her long legs
I could have danced a little if she’d support me
But she was spinning in and out of my head

I want to climb a mountain swim in the ocean
Get myself back to nature seems natural to me
But she wants big endeavours
Persistant subtle stroking
The feel of nature between her knees