How to handle a grenade. A double limerick…
The soldier was waiting. His furlough had ended. He stood at the bus stop, depressed.
Despite the warm welcome and subsequent nights when she’d rested her head on his chest,
Pauline had confessed that she no longer loved him. She’d put her cold heart to the test.
While Skip was away, she had dated some men, and had never turned down a request
To hop into bed.
Her clothes she would shed,
Then willingly spread
Her legs–or give head.
Her heart, like an unpinned grenade, would then burst with desire from deep down in her breast…
And when morning came, she would feel no remorse–and would even refuse to get dressed!
© 2017 David E. Miller