Proof Of Cuddling
Gently wrapped in warmth and Love
A pillow on the head above
To touch the shin with a restless toe
Boldly gone where no toe should go
In moonlit spaces with curtains veiled
And morning light filtered and paled
A creeping hand will slowly glide
Across a breast of a future bride.
And “No” she says with a muffled grunt
And once again spoils his furtive hunt.
And to his own devices he is left to deal
With a raging warmth he tries not to feel.
But in the night with waning consciousness
Her muted declines are broadcast less
And taking advantage of sleep so deep
His body begins its persistent creep.
And morning comes with tales of glee:
“I touched the Queen with my very knee!”
She responds with shaking head
And plans to leave him cold in a king size bed.
For she seems immune to his advances
And warns that he is just taking chances
Of incurring a wrath so strong and true
If he continues to do what he wants to do.
But me thinks she doth protest too much
In her abstentions to her Lover’s touch.
For one fine dawn with birds a chirping
She is captured with proof of cuddling.
