It's just another day out with him,
she wants something more than what he's got.
She's grown weary of his boring monotony,
she likes some excitement, and this is not.

She wants a single rose,
a dinner in the night.
A stroll along the beach,
then some real delight.

She wants a man that will hold her,
and kiss her lips with meaning.
A man who will talk with his eyes,
and love what he is seeing.

A man who knows how to use his hands,
to make her feel it without fail.
And where to put his tongue,
to leave its moistened trail.

She wants a living blanket,
to keep her warm at night.
To warm her up inside,
and to hold against her tight.

She wants a man who'll keep her satisfied,
as well as wanting more.
Then do it again in a different way,
than what he did before.

This poem is fiction, but a real person was part of the inspiration for it.
I went to school with a girl named Eva, and, pardon my eloquence, but she was just freakin' cute.
She was an adorable, petite thing who, on occasion,
affecionately called me Christopher Robin, even though we barely knew each other.

The other part of the inspiration for the poem came from a sign on the door of a shop.
It was on some Melrose Place-type show that did not last very long.
The sign said Eva's something or another.  I forget.

It's not fantastic, but there you have it.