My Little Bootlegger Babydoll Poem by Shannon Walker
My Little Bootlegger Babydoll
Your eyes are so deliciously clever;
Always pouting, sometimes begging, discreet,
Beneath a tuft of burgundy hair,
Like pools of water
In a willows shade,
The weaving fronds; pulling me down
Into the brine and peat.
Drowning is such a pleasure
When your end is the sea,
And you're fading slowly away
Gasping for air.
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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5/4/2024 11:47:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Oh, my. How very nice...and hot. The title had me smiling. Enjoyed