Whisky In Oval Glass

Oval glass Like your waistline Touches my fingers Whisky in it Pretty hard Soften with Swing ice cubes Glitters with cold Sipping by lips Like your **** Taste in love Fuddled feelings Slowly lie down Your glance Being an image in it Concavely looks at While filling up With another ice cube Desire reminds Like talking your eyes In a short time Empty glass Looks at me In a moment I stand up And go for a cigarette. Udaya R. Tennakoon