Love not numbers

In honour of St Valentine's Day I'm posting a poem.
It's a bit of nonsense and a little risque' so if you are of a delicate disposition, please read no further...
It's sub-title is ' There's no accounting for taste' or ' The accountant's girlfriend' and it is for anybody who's partner is more keen on talking about their work, than whispering sweet nothings.

Love not Numbers



I'm in love with the lines at the edge of your eyes

and I lust at the feel of your bum.

So I suppose it might come as a slight surprise

(despite sexy thighs) that I sometimes feel glum

when your lips talk of numbers. It's such a waste

But there's no accounting for taste

I can cope with you doing a masters degree

with your exhaustion and cumulative stress

I'm quite supportive, as I'm sure you agree

when with housewifely glee, I come and clean up your mess.

I'll wear silk stockings, be the keenest of cooks

But don't talk of balancing the books.

In bed you are all that I've ever desired

playful, passionate, masterful or gentle.

Your slightest touch sometimes gets me all fired

so I'm inspired to be wicked and experimental

But one thing dear is elementary

Don't even mention 'double entry'...

I enjoy playing with rhyming schemes, so had great fun trying to fit in the double rhyme at the beginning of each forth line and I could never resist a truly dreadful pun.

May you all have a more tasteful and much more Romantic Valentine's day!