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Poetry Magnum Opus

Elberta Belle


fdelano
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Raised by Franciscan monks, she migrated

from St. Augustine to Macon, where I first

saw and admired her perfect, pale skin

and picked her instantly to be mine only.

At last alone, I lay her warm body, soft

but firm, next to me on the black futon

where her complexion would show

to its finest hues, her plumpness curved,

ripe to perfection, even in her youth.

I hold her with both palms on round

hips like roses, soft velvet

to her navel. Bringing her to my cheek,

I inhale her sweet tang, anxious

to take her, forcing my ardor to slow,

make the moment last. Impossible!

I must have her now. My tongue touches

the crease down her middle, eager

to taste the rare juices just under

the whole of her. I suck the syrupy

flow to fill my mouth with heavenly

ambrosia, feasting now with abandon.

When only the wrinkled brown skin

Of the pit remains, I hold it in my mouth

for a long time, not wanting the affair

to ever end.

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Lovely stuff. Sensuously humorous and much enjoyed. Makes me wonder if you've been reading D.H. Lawrence's "Peach". Well worth reading over again. :icon_sunny:

Typo alert: "pith". G.

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