Saturday, March 23, 2013

THE WET TOUCH


Why the forefinger
Made a movement flat
And landed straight
At the damp side of
The eyes little corner
Was something my own
Coming out in the flow
Was it smoothing away
Blurry density sight

Streaking a transparent
Round the cheeky glow
Who pushes the breeze
Licking the path
Through my lips
Cool I feel
All passion spent!

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