I wanted to write a love poem to everything today
scribble lines like
“I am never more in love with the world than on a gray, rain drenched, morning”
but all I could think about was tongues
their enchanting pinkness
how perfect their texture for licking circles
round ice cream mounded on a cone
touching to frozen poles
slipping across lover’s lips

how perfect

© Julie Ayers
October 2012


About Julie Ayers

Seasoned apocaloptimist, keen admirer of well-placed words, fierce mama bear of extra special children, black belt hugger, and advocate for a fashion rebellion which elevates the most human of hearts to socially acceptable outerwear.

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