Its summer, midsummer is closing in.
Midjune is past.
Its the season of the senses.
Warmth seeping
through flesh
gentle trickle
of salty drops
whispers of
cooling breeze
tickling
heated body
awakening nerves
arousing scent
sweet perfume
of sunkissed skin
Smooth
dewlined roundness
rolling
on the tounge
sweetness
penetrates
tastebuds
exploding slowly
firm skin bursts
between teeth
filling the mouth
with cool
slick flesh
fingers tear from the wine
another grape
