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Spring Flows Into Summer

Spring woke me with a gentle invitation
into your world of sonnets and panties.

Our conversation meandered, a brook rippling
melodious over boulders of hidden meaning.
You opened with a question, or was it I
who invited you to a picture of my desire?
Awkward and shy eddied together with brazen and wanton.

You pried away hesitation gently, my petals falling open
as you showed me your columned passion fisted and cradled
in your fingers. My lips ached for it, my tongue hungered
for that velvet, to slide around its ridge and dip into its crevice.

You distracted me with talk of irony and rhythm and meter
while coaxing the other nipple into your mouth,
and I felt the pull of your ardent suckling twixt my thighs.

Melody flowed freeform from your fingers, handling
a guitar neck as lovingly as they might ripple over naked flesh.
And my rivers flowed for you, viscous between swollen banks.

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