Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Flora's whores

iridescent hues
drip in the evening sun
spilling over
soft gem laden cups
who serenade
feminine stripes
and sails of stained glass
their sweet words
those of sirens
they learned long ago
in almost every tongue
of almost every
pair of lips

iridescent hues
swirling in stirring
breath of zephyrs
once remembered
on burning pavement
underfoot
bare skin meeting
the caress of solar want
of delicate breezes lost
to the haughty wind
of silken dress
engulfing thirsty appetites
to suckle those
who stop to visit
to stay awhile
within the evening sun



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