Cake

If every strand of her hair said I love you,

All my bald head would say I have you,

Every time I touch her head,

Like Samson I'd grow from strength to strength.

I'd write her a poem, 

About a cake,

How I'd eat her up in the morning to make her awake,

She'd be sugar free,

That's what she's getting from the tree.

If her lips were grapes,

It'd be of many shapes,

Mine would mould hers,

Tickling her like the furs,

Holding never to let go,

She makes my time slow.

This is a random thought,

Of a woman I sought, 

The woman that's dope,

The woman that's hope,

My only,

My homely,

My poetry.