Poetry by Annushka

Dear Abby


Dear Abby tell me what to do.
My sex life sucks, my husband's blue.
The trouble is we have no time.
We have five kids, so sex sublime
Will have to wait till they are grown
And once again our lives we own.

But what to do till they are gone?
My husband wakes before it's dawn
And wants to play Mustaf the Sheik
While children through our door way peek!

I'm scared to breath while we make out;
I think they'll hear without a doubt.
We turn the music up way high
So I'd relax and dare to sigh.

Yet still my mind remains next door,
So hubby fears he is a bore.
But that of course is not the case.
He is real hot, he's quite an ace.

Now, tell me if we celibate
Next 18 years, what is our fate?
Perhaps we'll turn as cold as stone
And wish we both just lived alone.
Dear Abby tell me what to do
Before my husband thinks we're through.


II

Well, here I go and write a again.
I bought the book called "Love and Zen".
I acted out all of those tricks
And spiced them up just for the kicks.
However he was not enthused,
Although I think he looked amused.

So now I ask for more advice.
(I hope I may write to you twice.)
By chance you know some other book
Affordable and worth a look?

My hubby has torn down the wall
Between our room and upstairs hall.
He says he needs to insulate
Our bedroom walls so my debate

Will end up as a closed up case,
And so we could resume the chase
That lovers do when they have fun.
(I hope by then I'm fit to run!)
Dear Abby tell me what to do
I think we've cooked up quite a stew.



� 2004 Anne Maarit Ghan

Home Page