Her Special 'Treats' Poem by James McLain

and Her special treats being warm
could be considered a lusious tropical
island of wait.
from the back, one eye below the moon.
drawn in between every mans, wanting.
out the window grows a palm tree who's
top seems to be in the clouds, though barely.
though from the valley of sweetly, each and every
dropp of sweat laying heavy thus,
one dripp at a time seems damply, coalescing.
and growing warmer as the sun, because it does.
things becoming as they should, head held up high.
and the wind carries off the smell, from each side.