That night she suggest,
to lie on her sir' chest,
to explore it ,his favour
to exploit, his lips flavour,
She had said with satire
with esteemed vigour
"I don' want you to sire'"
"I'll make my sir tire '"
She heard him
had his gun trigger!
With one accord,
he sharpened his sword
That night
Her back crick,
under the nets,
They spent silent night,
Jumping like crickets!
©simbiray
S