Upon her lips I rode
The waves of freedom
Stationary mountains
Tree roots seeking China

Hip to hip intravenously
Our umbilical cord intact
My map of fingerprints
Pleasure her deep blue sea

Cream in my cherry pie
A pillow of ghost feathers
Skin soft as pastry butter
Her hair flies the kite solo

Tasting wine the red kind
Not to be mistaken
For the way she whines
The hill love's about to climb

She'll rest assure out of trust
Her mouth that of brown sugar
Bee's honey if I desire a change
She tastes like wine, the red kind

Upon her mind I stayed
Bathing bubbles head to toe
True love came hard to stay
Leagues beneath she fainted

Hand in hand we vanished
The arms of time cut short
Her clouds of rain held back
A parade prolonged by passion

Tasting like wine
The red kind
With pitted cherries
She tastes like wine

Tasting like wine
The red kind
Tasting like wine
She tastes like wine

Copyright, Nathaniel London Jr. 2014
All rights reserved by author 2014

Poetry by France England
Read 485 times
Written on 2014-07-17 at 01:22

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