You know what it's like? you're home alone..You have this..um..urge..to..Well, you call her, and she's happy...she's very happy to hear your voice.
This poem is based on real life experience. We don't do this often but when we do, it is very satisfying. For those not in the local area, a "scratchit game" is a game of chance where you scratch the surface film from a card to reveal a possible large or small monetary prize...if you're lucky.
She quivered with anticipation, the familiar ring
The telephone call that made her heart sing.
His voice soft and low, it made her face glow
With the soft pink hue that excitement can do.
She knew what he wanted, she expected his call
She lay comfortably back on soft cushions and all.
His breathing was audible, slow and rhythmic
Sending thrills through her body no other could mimic.
"Is it in your hand?" She coyly asked him
He affirmed and assured her his readiness urged him
To proceed slowly but with eager abandon
His other hand moving in perfect rhythm.
His excited gasps drew her into the game
He screamed out " Yes!" and his breathing changed
To a frenzied rush. Her body arched, her lips parted.
As he whispered softly he's only just started.
His excitement grew and tension mounted
His hand moved faster, the moments counted.
"Yes!" she cried into the 'phone
as he hoarsely whispered, almost a groan….
"Two twenty's, two tens, two set for life…
One five and one fifty…"
"Let's try again again next week, hon'
these scratchit' games are really fun."
Copyright; BarBaRa (The Essence) Brickland
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