by Anton Wills-Eve
a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/familial-feasts/”>Familial Feasts</a>
to a relative
The prettiest, cutest gal I’ve seen
‘Come here boy’ eyes, n’ Pouting lips’,
You must know the little lady I mean.
She swings with her arms around my neck,
Running her hands through my hair while saying,
‘Are you coming Mister? Well then, what the heck?’
Let’s get to it lover boy before the sun goes down,
That melting, loving look as she kisses me, ‘wow,
The sort of girl I’d decorate if I had a crown.
Now the sun’s gone to bed, and the moon’s so bright
And all that’s left for me to do is what a man’s gotta do.
On a bed of soft straw with the moon my only light.
For this little cutie, my own darling Anne
I’d arrange such a feast as you’ve never seen
So everyone would, go, every woman and man
Thus leaving our corner of the world to just us two
And even better than that, know what we’d do?
We’d swing though the branches of our ancestral tree
The only place you’ll find any reference to my Anne and me.
About fifty thousand years have gone by since we first met
And still we haven’t stopped loving each other yet.