A poem while Big, a poem while little

[Guest Kya]

Sitting on my bosom,

Is a little man

 

Calling himself to be things

Even he doesn't think he can

 

My body is his and his alone

To mark up as he pleases

 

Where lips and hands roam freely

Giving out tickles and teases

 

Sitting on his lap

Is a little woman

 

Wanting herself to be things

Even she doesn't think she can

 

Daddies are nice  

 

 Daddies are kind  

 

Kya hopes soon  

 

 To find a Daddy   

 

She can call "Mine"  

[Petal]

I love the dichotomy between these!  You're a lovely poet, both sides of you.

[Guest annemarie]

i agree with petal!! though the only thing i'd suggest is making the second poem longer and formatted similarly to the first one if you want them to be a matched set or part of the same series