her naked form
covered in pollen
that clings
to every curve
of her perfection
the sun dances
upon her skin
as my tongue
plays down her spine
like a a silken hammer
the xylophone keys
of her vertebrae
her tailbone signals
the eventual
into the simmering waters
of her desire
how her moans
across the quiet field
as her fingers
clench the blanket
spread out
with care
the simple picnic
becomes a feast
of the senses
one i have never
so well

4 thoughts on “picnic

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