I have a postcard
pinned to the wall inside my mind
of you and me
sat 'neath a tree
me in front and you behind

In one hand a scribbler pad
in the other hand a pen
a playful duel
like kids at school
of poets does begin

Your turn to choose the topic
mine to write the first
I start the rhyme
with four quick lines
now its your turn, do your worst

A wrinkled brow, a ******* up face
then an idea and a smile
that cheeky grin
as you fill it in
gee you sure do take a while

Finally your verse is done
and you coyly hand it back
I read with a rush
and I feel my cheeks flush
"oh come on, you cant put that!!"

But you find it all too funny
and lie back laughing in my arms
and soon the book lies theres forgotten
as we explore each others charms