Chariots

I got no time so I’ll lay it on the line,
you and I
twenty four hour clock
let’s rock ’til
we drop.
 
The vestal virgin’s surging ahead
and now I’m off limits and
she’s losing the thread.
 
Bed,
the last bastion
I’m  getting my skates on,
but
she’s like a block of blue ice.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.