Completion...
the body
is stroked upon
by
tender hands
this body
stands before it
watching
caressing those
hands
skin lands on
skin
the world knows
its own
kind of foreplay
clouds on the side
of the hills
sunset kneeling
upon the foot
of the mountain
lightning flashes
sounds of thunder
the snake spits
its venom
on the tender flesh
of the
innocent chick...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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