Trickle of sweet juice,
shall play upon my muse,
a twinkle of sweet thoughts,
that I simply can’t refuse.
Succulent in my desire,
I shall ravage this fruit,
like the pied piper of avalon,
I shall play the golden flute.
Crimson flows into red,
as the nectar seeps so free,
touching the heart of my soul,
it all matters so much to me.
A contest entry
- To Rhyme or Not To Rhyme - Prompt by Cannonsfire.
525 points, ended July 23, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Nice rhyme here and soft thoughts.
C
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