Shaved

BY CAROLE NICHOLS


Wet and hot in the middle of the forest,
Haunting cries in the distance beckoning;
The heady fragrance of the flowers,
The musky cavern of hidden secrets.
Yet you seek that gentle hill of delight.

A yielding mount in the fertile valley,
Awaiting a viewing by hungry eyes;
With the foliage swept away, it appears,
Flushed and alive, sweet beauty revealed;
Greedy and giving, awaiting a visitor.

And life's fountain pours over it,
Urging a drink of the gleaming nectar;
Silky smooth and and tempting to touch,
Captivating to the senses, sweet flesh;
Inviting you to linger in passion's fold.