Spiked Prize
The rain started with a thunderous racket,
heavily the downpour was hitting my head,
and you were late; I, in my bombers jacket,
was waiting anxiously, your spikes tread.
And there! You appeared stumbling in grace
- this beautiful maid, rain avoids to wet,
I smile, you smile, approaching in lace,
and I admire your acrobatic walking fret.
Like a dream! You approach smiling in rain
I smile! This historical moment to enjoy,
my rained feelings tangle in your wet mane,
these high heels make you the Helen of Troy!
I aptly run, on top the shoreline's quay,
lightnings strike around me, of Zeus wrath,
I vigorously extend my rendezvous bouquet
to you who smiles rainy, stumbling on path.
A lightning falls on my bouquet, burns my roses,
another strikes mercilessly on my belt buckle,
a third makes me yelp and jump on my toes,
the last hits my 'propriety' and you chuckle.
Was it a Gods synergy, for I appeared foolish,
burned - flash stricken in front of your eyes,
your tallest spiked heels seemed so prudish,
as trillions of electrons crossed my manly prize.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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