Lovedrops Poem by Taylor Rosewood

Trickling down, I slide through hills,
and drizzle onto barefoot toes, soft
like figs, and tough like stones, yet
warm of color as true figs go, and
when dusk appears, and their dusky
hue, goes brown to purple in twilight's
blue, I'll patter again- her ruddy skin-
and send a shiver up her tawny limbs-
defying the prigs- her boss- her folks-
as she gladly consents to the love I show-
her figs- her toes, and everything else
I'm there to know.