Turn on

We always wondered what’s the secret behind,
The inner mystery of that living form.
Revealing not though, but they do.
The act turns on and makes gentlemen woo.
They had never expressed what is wanted,
Our minds are not freaked rather haunted.

Like an art, He saw in the garden of love,
The waving crest, curled over the beauty crown,
Heads down through the front the camber.
The curves and nerves tinged his mood
The senses that flew, brother winged and stood.
Proactive ness!!! Yes. He readied food.

As he neared the heavenly lane,
Swapping the emotions. No sin. No blame.
The drive had then, turned on to tweet,
To explore the core and unleash the heat.
It’s early to dawn and can’t hear the cock,
Rightly to say, felt the ticking inner-clock.

Swung his waist to and fro and
Feeling the dampness, outside and in.
All his strengths that he ever had
Proved the world he is a stronger lad.
The end of act, the final stage
In his life, this would be an interesting page.

- Julien