Adultiad

There he comes, her winged lover
though the pair's yet to discover
the real pleasures of the flesh...

As he labors to enmesh
the young maiden with his swagger
she has yet to acquiesce
or take measure of his dagger
nor will she take off her dress...

Hopes, once high, begin to crumble
but the angel, far from humble
won't abandon his new quest
and proceeds with ample zest...

"Will you not look at my scepter?"
She is tempted, but what kept her
from exploring nether regions --
her upbringing and religion --
stays her hand, and she won't forage
and the angel, losing courage --
it no longer flies, his mast
feels defeated, at the last.

His serenity thus shattered
feeling fallen and quite battered
he prepares to leave his idol
but what's this?? No longer idle,
her lips sampling his horn
(mom had said there's little danger
he's in luck, our handsome stranger)
and his timber thus reborn...

As she labors on his orchard
(don't we all wish to be tortured,
just like him, then fall to slumber,
but the maiden's taste for lumber
was apparently developed
and so as her lips enveloped
quite refusing to relent
and he stays a monument)...

Ivory skin next to his olive
and the pieces that protrude
(we won't mention or include)
sending waves of carnal pleasure
and he thinks, "oh, she's a treasure"...

Stars abandoned constellations
and eclipses lost their place
but the pair and their relations
still continued at this pace,
till the angel's patience burst
(it is possible he cursed)
in the end, what's not to like
and they both felt lightning strike.

(your forgiveness, gentle reader,
if you find the writing craven
led here by the contest's leader,
quothed to me by an old raven)

Author notes: dagger crumble abandon scepter forage mast serenity idol horn timber orchard slumber monument ivory olive forgiveness raven constellations eclipses