Her fuzzy hair's enticing alike a dead white daisy,
Her alluring scent peeling each petal of my heart,

A wiggle of her wrinkle subjugates my mind,
A puff of her aging odour, drives me insane.

Oh my, I think I've fallen for you,
Granny (must be that saggy body I couldn't resist).

Or perhaps it’s your youthful smile, that
Pogo-sticks through my aging mind.

Each time you call me a good kid,
My heart wants to say I prefer having your kids.

Each time you ask me to be your walking stick,
I can't help but indulge myself in selfish thoughts.

Oh dear, I think I better stay away from you,
Lest you bat me crazy with your fiesty umbrella.


*******-*******-*******-*******------
PS: Just for the record, this isn't about me, my granny, or any grannies. I never write poems about myself and this one's just for a laugh.

May be a funny poem, but there's at least one guy with a real granny fantasy been messaging us mature women on here trying to get us to take the bait.