Temptation itches on all living things
often nobody knows just how it stings,
not the icky-glues in its sticky pastes
nor the rotten fruits in its wasted wastes.
She the vixen nobody could resist
her vanishing pleasures - elusive mists,
long legs descend from heavenly skies
later, such dark pains in lamented cries.
Victim once thought to be heavenly bound
lost, voiceless, no understandable sound,
finds temptress, sexy wares designed to win
she that siren alluring to all men.
You scratch that itch, risking your own peril,
finding wounds that can never be sterile!
- Robert Lindley