She is my life, she is my lady,
I do my best to visit her daily.
She doesn’t have awesome lips,
or gorgeous swaying voluptuous hips.
I stand and wait for her in the morning sun,
sit and dine with her when noon time comes.
Never wanting to leave her side,
though this lady takes away my pride.
I long to caress her cold exterior,
To tap her gently, in certain areas.
Love when a crowd gathers to watch,
knowing then I’m winning at the slots.
My lady is a mean old cold machine,
she takes my money but she’s my Queen.
I play her morning, noon and night,
never letting her out of my sight.
When 3: am comes and my lady says good-night
I hang my head in shame,
promising never to come back again
but the promise is just another lie I make,
for when morning comes, I’ll stand and wait.
Written: May 8/2007
Melvina Germain
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/602-she-s-a-mean-old-cold-machine/
