Confessions of a Teenage Boy
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This year I asked Santa for a Harley
and a flagon of wine made of barley.
Then I asked God alone
for an angel of my own,
no, not one of His, one of Charlie’s!
`~~~
The hot girl next door at her window stands
and through it I gaze her soft buxom glands.
When the moment I seize
it’s at times such as these
I’m so glad I’m not Edward Scissorhands!
~~~
My mother said something I couldn’t ignore
at the dinner table and my jaw hit the floor.
Okay, but I think you’ll find
any more and I’ll go blind,
“no silly, I said you need to masticate more!”
Written: January 2018
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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