Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
A friend of mine from Vașcău Lovingly brings me homemade wine. It doesn't have that touch of Beautiful berserker my father's Wine whispers of; it forms a warm Woman's hand around your Innerhead, while you draw slow Swigs of sweet silk Into the astral Bloodstream of Your soul. It scares me.
0
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
Transylvanian Wine
A friend of mine from Vașcău Lovingly brings me homemade wine. It doesn't have that touch of Beautiful berserker my father's Wine whispers of; it forms a warm Woman's hand around your Innerhead, while you draw slow Swigs of sweet silk Into the astral Bloodstream of Your soul. It scares me.
sgholter
Written by
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem