When I was fifty, she was six.
We built a castle of sand and sticks.
I showed her several magic tricks.

She'd wiggle her butt, stuck out her tongue,
Sing off key, when ever she sung,
And laughed and giggled and act so young.

But she'd sit so quiet in my lap
And use my arms as a wrap
And then pretend to take a nap.

I would listen to her beating heart,
Inhale her smells, both sweet and tart,
And feel the warmth of her every part,

I would pet inside her thigh.
And as I would moved little high,
My friend would smile and softly sigh.

Then with innocent eyes she would watch,
As a worried hand touched her crotch,
And felt the moisture from her notch.

She came to see me everyday
And mostly we would sing and play
But sometimes my hand would stray.

Always ready for a gentle pet;
She smiled and laughed; and never fret
So our love affair I can't regret.

Now that she's older, she comes now and then.
We sit and talk, she is my friend
But our little romance has come to an end.