She arrives, tottering
On heels. Her breasts pressed
Against her too tight dress.
He has been pottering.
And, on hearing the familiar click clack
Opens wide
The door to her
Claire,
(well, its something like that)
Slides in, wearing matching black
Dress and shoes.
They drink booze
And chat.
Then retire
To the place of desire,
Where the curtains flap,
And the booze goes flat.
Oh Kevin, don’t let the booze go flat
Firstly throw-out the polecat…..
Thanks for taking the time to rhyme, Ivor. Best, Kevin
My pleasure Kevin ☺️