A good poem is like a passionate dame.
When she courts you,
She embraces you, deftly dropping her veils.
The more you caress, the more she dotes on you.

Like dressed up chicken
The undressed poem lures you
To peck and poke at her bare contours.

Bathing in the bliss of its beauty,
You loose count of the hours that pass-by.
And suddenly,
One fine morning,
She delivers you, another poem.