THE BALLAD OF AN UNHAPPY MAN

I told her I would like her
if only she'd wear some lycra,
........or play the balalaika
whilst I photo'd with my Leica.

I said I had a soft spot
for her sexy rounded hot bot
and the harder it would get
if only she would let me
serenade her on her balcony
with my contrabassoon.

I informed her of my desire
to kiss her when required
until my desire expired
but that would not be
before her lyrical body
sang like a holy choir.

But all my protestations,
my urges and frustrations,
just missed my destination -
the object of my desire.

So without the hesitation
borne of trepidation,
I put my arms around her
and kissed her on the forehead
like many times before,
then swallowed much Viagra,
over dosing like Niagara,
and with a hard on bigger than Agra.
I died an unhappy man.