Once Upon a Vagina
There once was a lovely vagina.
But one in the world had been finer.
So delicate, white, pristine and uptight,
it's as if the thing were bone china.
And a haughty twat 'twas.
No place, this, for fingers or fuzz.
It lived all alone, never anyone's home.
No visits, and never no buzz.
Now please, don't blame the poor girl.
She really was not such a churl.
This was put up upon her, for sake of her honor.
No touching. No snatching the pearl.
Those were the lessons from early.
No fun, no play, just be girly.
In pants you risk chafe, you must always be safe.
Guard the castle from those who'd be surly.
In time the poor rosebud grew restless.
How boring the life that's so testless.
She desired to run, shed panties for sun,
in general, in life, just detest less.
Where to go didn't matter at all.
Just some inn for this hole on the wall.
She doesn't need much, nobody will touch.
She'll sit vigil lest anyone fall.
But the further from home, if she dare,
the better for this little mare.
No bosses, no losses, no elder hoo hosses,
no guilt and no crosses to bear.
Of course (she concluded): Medina!
How perfect! Even rhymes with vagina!
She packed straight away, not losing a day,
and left despite mother's angina.
This venture, as often they do,
saw road's end just days from "adieu."
No matter, she thought, this will suit for a twat.
Goose Creek, you are my Xanadu.
Our Muffy was not going to stew.
Of course she would take this in lieu.
It wasn't a stretch. This small town is a catch!
Carolina/vagina rhyme too.
Man's downfall, lonely, did find herself.
In a vase, face flowers upon a shelf,
felt isolated, untouchable, admired but dismissed.
What good's an adventure all by oneself?
Miss beaver is not such a whiner.
She's never been known a recliner.
She could lower lashes, as do other gashes,
for fear she might meet with a shiner.
No, out marches Miss Lady Flower.
It's time to make life, now's the hour.
To the courts she heads first, this will satisfy thirst.
Grab some balls, swing a racket, ooooh power!
On the court she found those of like mind.
Where has this been all this time?
The freedom, the game, this is life, I've been lame!
On the court she was truly in prime.
Still something, was there, just not there,
yearning deep inside young lady lair.
Nul-love, all this volley, is folly and jolly
yet something is lacking, I dare.
If only she'd one to endure things with.
Satan's cradle is missing its sith.
Each score, each loss, each night full of toss,
pray, Yoni, pray tell, what's your pith?
Times pass and with no more than tennis.
Her ache is becoming a menace.
'Til in comes one day, this new guy to play,
while greeting explains, "Name's said Penis." (rhymes with tennis)
"Penis," she says behind smirks.
Whatever. Just a name. Sure it works.
She's been unfulfilled, well's gone undrilled.
This player might be good for perks.
Turns out he plays well, who'd've thought it?
Impressive to her was his hot wit.
When shagging some balls turned to spars in the halls,
they gladly discovered their cross fit.
She did surprise Penis most surely.
This someone presents so demurely.
Put her to bed, and what rears its head?
Oh, delight, lights out, he'd bed burley.
Like it, he did, this is certain.
For him she had parted the curtain.
Like nothing he'd known, nor heretofore sewn,
her deviance defied even Merton.
On the court, next day, he was coy.
"What is wrong," she thought, "with this boy?"
He'd liked her quite deeply, things were rising so steeply.
She thought, "He thinks there's some ploy."
Their games that day were most rough.
His behavior was distant, hers tough.
In truth each was sad, how to make him/her glad?
Each dreamt repartee in the buff.
No, she decided, she's not done.
She wants understanding, and fun!
He's got to come clean, let down this cool screen.
Let it lie and she may lose The One.
Boldly, she confronted the lad.
Said guilt made him feel like a cad.
He'd been raised to be pure, she had made him unsure.
He liked what she had, was that bad?
Are you kidding? She spat, "Was ist?!"
"Have to ask?" she cried. She was pissed!
Feign a complex like that. That's the guise of a rat.
I'll bet, your one's never been kissed.
"Look this way," she said, "let's be clear."
To you, have I not become dear?
We may not be wealthy, but surely we're healthy.
This coin purse loves spending, why fear?
"Forgive me," he pled, "my boy brain."
Indeed we are of the same strain.
We're all taught at the core, that men need it more.
We all fain but his blain is her stain.
The lesson, dear reader, today:
Bold truth is the best way to play.
The way to a screw, is just to be you.
The prize is your ultimate lay.
What's left of the shame filled ID?
"Call a spade!" from off altar chimed she.
With proud newfound keenness, all grasped his name: Penis.
At last. They all lived, happily.
