I am the scurvy knave
You are the angel who can't behave
I swear you'd turn a church picnic into a rave
With you I'm either languishing in a dark cave
Or riding high on the crest of a wave
Still I believe you are the one to save
Me from an early grave
But I know it will be a very close shave.
-
Author:
Christopher Elwell (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2017 12:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.