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Love Poems About Sunshades or Sunshades Love Poems
by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: love,

Winner

At the beach in your bikini
blowing off those also-rans
you posture in your playful way
with Gucci sunshades and 
the latest Grisham novel.

At the gala you're exquisite 
in your slinky cocktail dress.
Simple, black, short and sexy,
you shimmer like a morning mist, 
the chandeliers are dancing in your eyes.

At the condo in your nightgown,
(the antithesis of sex), 
tucking in the kids
and softly singing them to sleep,
you're Wonder Woman in your plastic curlers.

I know I have the best,
without a doubt, it's true,
whatever outfit you put on,
my 'winner' still is you!



by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: love,

Winner


At the beach in your bikini
blowing off those also-rans
you posture in your playful way
with Gucci sunshades and 
the latest Grisham novel.

At the gala you're exquisite 
in your slinky cocktail dress.
Simple, black, short and sexy,
you shimmer like a morning mist, 
the chandeliers are dancing in your eyes.

At the condo in your nightgown,
(the antithesis of sex), 
tucking in the kids
and softly singing them to sleep,
you're Wonder Woman in your plastic curlers.

I know I have the best,
without a doubt, it's true,
whatever outfit you put on,
my 'winner' still is you!

 

by Christi Monte |
Categories: life, love, write, love, write,

Going to Argos

40 minutes ago I wanted to send you an sms thinking of you while I was drinking my cofee at the terraces that you love them at night but I didnt write because of the overly large sunshades and of the empty place from me which could never be taken now I write an sms that I will not send because it is impossible to let myself to be seen me who I look like a broken bench next to any empty place at the terraces that you love them at night with the lamps big as the story of Andromeda but with the sunshades overly large only now I send you an sms in which I have written nothing.

by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: love,

Winner

At the beach in your bikini
blowing off those also-rans
you posture in your playful way
with Gucci sunshades and 
the latest Grisham novel.

At the gala you're exquisite 
in your slinky cocktail dress.
Simple, black, short and sexy,
you shimmer like a morning mist, 
the chandeliers are dancing in your eyes.

At the condo in your nightgown,
(the antithesis of sex), 
tucking in the kids
and softly singing them to sleep,
you're Wonder Woman in your plastic curlers.

I want to scream: 
"The competition's over, 
  we have a winner!"