12: 13

the last drop,
the tongue crawls and licks
the reddish mound
living its life to the
last drop, deliciously
taking in
what this beating life
has to offer, this last drop
still the best,
in sleep still dream
the last drop, the last
of the moaning drop,
an ode to
the delicious offering
of the pink mound,
glistening dew
this rose of a woman.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!