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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 tits
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
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