I would call you a cool glass of water
I'm not going to because, your so much more
Your a tall glass of Georgia peach ice tea
Condensation drops forming,
from the dying summer heat
The curves of your glass glisten and highlight
rogue rays of sunlight,
sneaking past spaces in the live oak trees
Your each ice cube that cools my lips,
leaving sweet secrets tangled on my tongue
No wonder I find myself thirsty all the time
claiming dehydration,
just to have another sip