He was an old softy, with a devilish old heart

Knew how to get the girls, right from the start

Romancing each one, was his kind of game

He never left any of them, feeling the same

Each night he’d romance, yet another pretty face

Then leave her behind, ‘cause he needed his space

Til this one little lady, cheeks red, as she blushed

Smiled, ever shyly, turning his heart into mush

March Writing Prompt:  Mounds of Mush – Day 17/31

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