poetry from the antarctic
Showing posts with label
Precious
.
Show all posts
Showing posts with label
Precious
.
Show all posts
Sunday, July 18, 2010
In doggerel or clichéd trite
I formed the catalyst
That wormed its slinky silver tongue
Between the lips you pressed
Upon the rose that only blooms
When Venus fills the air
With seeds of latent wanting that
We scatter everywhere
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