by Paul Curtis
12/07/2011 / Holidays
When toward my bed I stumble
My wife greets me with a grumble
"Hello my little apple crumble"
I say as in her nightgown I fumble
My advances are met with a mumble
"Dearest, my desire is quite humble
A little bit of rough and tumble"
Her reply is yet another mumble
But we did have a Christmas fumble
I am a fifty something family man with a passion for writing and I draw inspiration from those around me.
paul.curtis1956 @ btinternet.com
http://www.dreamagic.com/poetry/poetry.html
http://www.peculiar-poetry.com/
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