Satire Poetry posted April 22, 2017


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Potlatch Challenge

The Scents of Love's Journey

by michaelcahill


 
Au naturale,  I do recall,
your scent made me your carnal thrall.
No earthly force could break our tether.
 
But passions fade, and muscles sag ...
I'm soon the goat and you the hag;
while sweating through the storms we weather.
 
One day the stench of plotted death,
her corpse cooks slow, and I'm the chef--
it don't smell good-- but we're together!



 


Recognized




Just for fun. LOL Mr. Romance strikes again!

Here's a tip. The absolute BEST scent, ladies, is YOU. No floral this and citrus that. (maybe a dash of vanilla)


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