RootGarden.com

When

my

angel

unsheathes

her

sexy

cells

with

grapes

in

her

fingers

trailing

from

under

freckles,

under

where

her

smiles,

letting

crinkles

shine,

each

moist

bead

up

for

grabs,

undrape

to

the

edges,

eclipsed

libido

searches

where

love

hides,

shoots

like

a

rose,

here,

under

this

caress,

that

yes,

streaming

behind

factory

frustration

jeweling

eyes

breathing

run

safari

up

the

knee,

looking

for

blueberries,

feverishly

slams

home

when

her

masterpiece

unfists,

no

longer

demure.