It is almost impossible to try to think

And way to hot, for an interesting drink

And to contemplate the writing, of something in verse

My brain needs attending, by a poetry nurse



She could fan my ego, with love and sympathy

And supply me with cups, of Earl Grey tea

And massage my soul, and feed me some food

And things i won't mention, it'd be a bit rude



But in return, for these comforts, and desire

I'd do the same, and relight her fire

And feed her, and tea her, a fan her, and yet

As i believe in giving, as good as i get



In the meantime, i shall lie here, and simply melt

And pretend i am graceful, lissom, and svelte

Soon to depart my boudoir, for another lair

As it's time to rise, from my lazy derriere!

by Jemia