Baby Bear's Bed
by Anne Tyson

I'm much more aware now than when I was younger
That boys are insane with a sexual hunger.
My bust line is decent, and therefore, I'm flaunting it,
'Cause I'm very conscious that fellows are wanting it.

In case you don't know, Goldilocks is my name,
And I'm not as green about boys as they claim!
Today, I suspect that nobody will care if
I drop by that house where the trio of bears live.

The bears are away. At least, that's what I think
As I'm pumping the well to get something to drink.
I lie down a while to rest in the shade,
Intensely aware of my need to get laid.

This bed that I'm on is so terribly short,
I'm needing a frame of a lengthier sort.
That's Papa Bear's bed that I promptly abandon.
It's simply too short for a girl to be standin'.

I move to the bed that adjoins in the loft,
And find right away that this bed is too soft.
When it comes to bedding, these Bears really skimp,
'Cause Mama Bear's bed is decidedly limp.

I almost give up when I finally discover
There's one other bed (with a big rumpled cover).
That bed's in a room down the hall toward the den.
It looks quite inviting, and so I climb in.

It feels really good as I nestle down in it,
And I fall asleep in well under a minute.
Then, I'm disturbed by a bothersome pest...
Awakened, I find, by a paw on my breast!

I open my eyes, and I'm seeing you there.
"Hi Goldy," you tell me, "My name's Baby Bear."
"Well, hello there, Baby," I naïvely say.
"Perhaps I am napping in your bed today?"

"No problem," you say, "If you find my bed pleasing."
You add that my breast is a joy to be squeezing.
"Thank you," I say, and I mention that "Maybe,
One might not believe that you're really a baby."

"My folks call me that," you're continuing on,
"I'm 21, now, and my siblings are gone.
I'm the last kid who's still here in the house.
By the way, do you mind that I've lifted your blouse?"

"That's quite all right, Baby," I venture to say.
"My boobs," I admit, "need some squeezing today."
You tell me the townsfolk are all very fond
Of the hue of my hair just because it's so blond.

Although you agree it's the blondest in town,
The hair you're enthralled with is farther on down!
I linger a while, and I hope you don't mind.
Your bed is so comfy, and that's hard to find.

I'm sharing with you what I like in a bed,
And that most are too short or too saggy instead.
"Perhaps I can end all your searching," you say,
In a voice that is sounding extremely risqué!

Your trousers suggest that you're 'ready to go.'
Your swollen excitement is starting to show.
I ask for permission for me to unzip it.
You say it's all right, and I do so and grip it.

You firmly contend, based on what I've been saying,
That your bed's the place where I need to be laying.
But here comes the proof that so earnestly begs...
The gift that you share as I open my legs.

It isn't too limp and it isn't too tight.
Instead, what I find in your bed is just right!
You give of yourself while I'm willingly spread,
And I find my heaven in Baby Bear's bed.
Anne Tyson is webmistress for She offers
personalized books of erotic poetry for a woman to read to her man.
One can create their own book title and dedication, and choose
cover art.
Copyright © 2005-2007 Bare Back Magazine, all rights reserved.
Please contact the authors if you'd like to reprint articles on this site.  All copyrights are retained by original authors