Hands trembling,
I reach
towards my prize.
Tingling,
I devour every inch.
Carressing your body,
I feel my youth come rushing back.
And im free.
|
Hands trembling, I reach towards my prize.
I devour every inch.
I feel my youth come rushing back.
And im free. Author notesPic prompt. 25 words. A contest entry
What did you thinkComments
1 - 8 of 8
1 - 8 of 8
|
|
|
Our sites: Stories, Critical Poetry, Old Poetry, Quotes, Philosophy, Journals, Role-playing. © Social Design Poem History:
| |