Poet Hunter

She was a poet hunter, Hunting in Poem Hunter. Pretending best and better, Woman of word and letter. Pretending a poetess, But writing very less. She welcome me at first, Enveloped me in thirst. Through thick and thin forest, She wanted me to test. She then became a hen, Dragging me to den. And then became a bitch, As I wanted to ditch. In very hustle-bustle, In this increasing tousle. I fell into a well, And burst into a yell. But when I opened eyes, You can't imagine guys! My resonating calls, You can't imagine gals! I actually stripped, Stranded and slipped. What a splendid scene! In mosquito screne.