Harvest…

Let the evening ~ ride the night express.
Shades of tumbled sun, licked strands
of fading corpses, mere shadows on the land.
Melting pots of insanity, explore silken
fingertips.
Whilst pink spangled boughs of desire
shake you to your core.
Luscious plums, burst into flirtatious
ecstasy gathered fragrant ready
for the fall.

Roam free, in the valley of the women
know that she ~ naked lips, ice cold voice
will rise you up ~ draped about her
temptations of lust
She your mistress, offers you no choice
In your attic mind picture her beauty
climb  that  ladder tall –
dripping moisture
thought your mouth ~ be barren dry

Poppy 2013 ~xx~

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