Campfire poetry
by cricketjeff on July 19, 2008. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
It’s late at night and all of us are seated round a fire
I’m wearing just my jeans and nothing more
I’m smiling at the notebook where I’ll write of my desire
An empty page that’s waiting for my score
A lady that I love a lot has jeans that nearly fit
And fills them in a way that makes me smile
The bacon that we’re frying has a tendency to spit
And this page looks so enticing all the while
But that was all some time ago, I’m feeling loved and kissed
Her jeans are even tighter now we’ve fed
We’re cuddling by the fireside, there’s one thing that is now missed
The page is full of verses from my head
Author notes
Poem is for a “favourite things PIF”
a blank page
an open fire
blue jeans
English