Three poems, wet, gleaming and not much left for imagination,
in a deserted beach, collided with a prankster wave, mad after poems,
the lithe one, went up, up, like a kite, the shapely one tickled the eyes a bit,
when came face to face, and the hefty one went down like a rock.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
Three poems, wet, gleaming and not much left for imagination,
in a deserted beach, collided with a prankster wave, mad after poems,
the lithe one, went up, up, like a kite, the shapely one tickled the eyes a bit,
when came face to face, and the hefty one went down like a rock.
Posted earlier, deleted accidentally
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