No MILF to lay, this mom has gone away—
My cougar gal was born years before I was spawned.
No MILF to lay, now lonely are my nights—
With her I used to lie, but now she’s gone bye-bye.

Why did she go, my matriarchal queen?
The end of her gropes where men pendant in jeans.
Now I self-grope, my phallus held between
The manned hand forge, where once the mom had been.

No MILF to lay—it wasn’t always so,
But then she went away—each day I’m in dismay.

And since she left, each day is dark and lonely;
I pace the house and I fetishize her gown:
I make a shrine in which I then “enclothes” me;
I’ll go hunt her down.

No MILF to lay—a-searching I will go.
I ask myself: which way? Geographic dismay.
Then is displayed by GPS a map,
But as numbers I punch, I succumb to a nap.

Leftward I go; in the land of Liz Queen
This move would be O-K, but here it means
Against the flow of traffic my car streams;
Meanwhile I snore, with the mom in my dreams.

Dozed, MILF I lay while a car comes my way;
Behind the wheel’s the mom; she’s with a kid named Tom.

I was bereft; each day was dark and lonely—
I paced the house—serotonin levels down,
And now I find that I am not the only
One that she had found.

So MILF’s OK, and Tom ain’t passed away—
We all contemplate love; lickerishness is spawned.
Beaux, MILF, we stray into woods, out of sight,
A threesome in the pines; mother knows best, we find!