RootGarden.com

 
 

 

Charlene

   
 

When

my

angel

unsheathes

her

sexy

cells

   
 
 

with

grapes

in

her

fingers

trailing

   
 

from

under

freckles,

under

where

   
 
 

her

smiles,

letting

crinkles

   
 

shine,

each

moist

bead

up

   
 
 

for

grabs,

undrape

to

   
 

the

edges,

eclipsed

   
 
 

libido

searches

   
 

where

love

   
 
 

hides,

   
 

shoots

like

   
 
 

a

rose,

here,

   
 

under

this

caress,

   
 
 

that

yes,

streaming

   
 

behind

factory

frustration

   
 
 

jeweling

eyes

breathing

run

   
 

safari

up

the

knee,

looking

for

   
 
 

blueberries,

feverishly

slams

home

   
 

when

her

masterpiece

unfists,

no

longer

   
 
 

demure.