Seething Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Oh yes, my silken southern skin,
the word of mince pie makes me grin.
I'd slurp each bit and would not share
as mince of fruit needs special care
both to be made and to be tasted,
hence not a crumb ought to be wasted.

Perhaps a bit of cream would serve
to tickle yet that special nerve.
A picnic rug, a flask of wine
(perhaps a Riesling from the Rhine) ,
far infrared from golden rays
I'd flaunt my most exotic ways.
Forgot to ask, do you like Jerky,
it goes quite well with well aged Turkey,
a dropp or two stops babies teething
and sees the satin petals seething.