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A drink from her cup.

This poem was inspired by someone who has always been sweet to me. I hope she recognizes herself.
I drink red wine before the fire;
She shares my cup with grace.
Cold winds howl, the fire’s blaze
Chases chill away.

I lay her down and drink my wine
From the hollow of her throat;
Spilling out across her breast,
My hungry lips then race.

Her navel is a tankard full
Of wine, ripe for the taking.
Below, out spills her own sweet wine;
A far more heady vintage.

Rosé cheeks.
Chablis skin.
Bordeaux tips her heaving breasts.
Claret cleft.
Merlot within.
Port-wine hood with Cognac crest.

I hope to drink eternally
And never have my fill.
From her lovely chalice sweet
Her love flows with a will…

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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