TASTING LIKE WINE
Upon her lips I rodeThe 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 969 times
Written on 2014-07-17 at 01:22
Tags Romance
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
