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By (user no longer on site) OP
2 weeks ago
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In lands o' heather, mist, and moor,
Where lassies ken their worth galore,
There lies a gem, sae small, sae braw,
Yet many lads ne’er find it a’.
They wander low, they wander high,
Wi’ tongues a-lost and hands awry,
They search like bairns wi’oot a map—
But aye, the prize is near yer lap.
She’s no some myth frae tale or scroll,
She’s nae Loch Ness, nor hidden troll—
Nay, she’s a diamond in the fluff,
Wi’ need for care, no blustered guff.
So when ye dine—aye, mind yer grace!
Don’t gallop like ye’re in a race.
Take time tae learn, tae kiss, tae feel,
The clit’s the key tae mak it real.
It's no a button just tae press,
Nor target in a lusty mess—
It's love, it's art, a rhythm slow,
A Highland reel that makes her glow.
So ken this truth, ye bonnie lout:
It’s right there—aye!—nae need tae scout.
Respect the lass, the fluff, the spark,
And find the jewel whaur angels hark. |
I agree, well done.x