I tasted just a morsel of your feast
when tongue and fingers launched their fierce attack
upon your succulent buffet, released
at once between your lips, while on your back.
I savor first the blue-cheese-color eyes,
delight in cherry tips, each melon mound
responding, squirming, moaning, lows and highs
as juices leak here, there and all around.
The entree simmers keeping itself warm
awaiting gentle probe, intruding deep
into the tender loin, in filet form,
mignon or strip, a boneless choice to keep.
This feast of you is on another's plate
thus leaving me to wait another date.
do you really need those 2 lines in the end...i guess you do cuz it's a sonnet...but after you've whetted my appetite! :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I agree with Sonya (hiding behind her shoulder; peeking at the..poem, lol) Not fair at all to have it all be someone else's feast. (smile)