Little Bo Peep
Shephard of the searching, fondler of the yearning, so high you sit on your horse.
Counting for lost sheep, remembering those destined to burn, how easy it is to forget the thumb that points back at you.
It would accomplish nothing to reiterate your transgressions. It would betray everything to tell the truth; shaming the devil is for sinners. Your piety is testament to that. They needn't know how your words of brotherly love were punctuated with my undressing.
At the time we met, angels and devils looked alike to me. My most dirty little secret, you made the hall of fame.
Peace, Love & Chasing Ganders