Gosh I Love to Garden with My Guy
Sweltering sun on your tea stained skin
such a sensual aphrodisiac,
pungent wafts of fresh worked soil
scorching my sandy soles,
brackish trickle between ample breasts
now heavy bellied with desire,
brooding for but a single kiss
bestowed by burnished brow.
Let loose your laborious implement,
languidly lie with me my love,
where last autumn’s littering lingers still,
liberate my lustful lips.
Carelessly where the cornflowers crown,
cast all caution to the wind,
as coppery caresses wantonly crave, a
covering of common nakedness.
Deny me not this delicious deluge
of self indulgence, as I dare,
to demand away the doldrums, by
day dreaming in the dirt.
Copyright © Shelly Berkeley