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Edward Searson
Poems
Jul 2013
On The Table
He laid her on the table.
So white clean and bare.
His forehead wet with beads of sweat.
He rubbed her gently everywhere.
He touched her neck and then caressed her breast.
And then drooling, felt her thigh.
The skin was wet and all was set,
He gave out a joyous cry.
The hole was wide...he looked inside.
All was dark and murky.
He rubbed his hands and stretched his arms...
And then he stuffed the turkey.
Written by
Edward Searson
England
(England)
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