Tis the oldest game in town,
Save for agriculture
Perhaps. Or did moralists frown
When the hunter gatherers played
With the vulture?
And who then preyed?
And what is prey
Anyway?
Tis the same
Old game
Today. Vultures with vultures dance.
The word said
Is “Bed”
But romance
Is dead.
The soiled rose
With too short clothes
Will prey
On those
Who pay
To play
With prey.
But for a moment stay,
Just who created the prey?
K Morris - Poet 
Oh wow Kevin. Love the play on words. This is a great poem
Many thanks. I’m delighted that you love my poem. All the best – Kevin
You are welcome
VEry thought provoking, Kevin.
Thank you, Robbie. I’m glad my poem provokes thought.