“Please?”



She pouts, lower lip trembling,
Protruding beneath lowered lashes.
What is a man to do?

Through thick ebony lashes,
She gazes at him,
Deep…dark…penetrating…mesmerizing;
Huge doe-like bedroom eyes,
At once innocent and beguiling,
Promises of lustrous desires fulfilled
Swimming in those sensual eyes.
What is a man to do?

Her pouting lips part,
Pretty in pink, moist,
Luscious lovely lips.
Oh, what is a flesh and blood man to do?

A single word slips through perfect white teeth,
A simple word drifting,
A single, sweet, simple word,
Escaping from perfectly pouting lips,
Like sweet syrup cascading over
Golden brown pancakes,
Smothered in butter…
“Please?”

And so a man does what he must,
And gives in to her pleas.
Nothing else for a man to do,
When accosted by such a pretty please.



Copyright © 2002 by Elizabeth Ann Lopez

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