Cascade of Passion
I had such a wickedly beautiful dream
An army of Hot Bread kitchen’s buns; with no cream
An Auzzie cuppa of long black gingerly kissing the brim
I see him basking on the frosty Fuji summit; he calls himself,Jim
An empty pew beside him, he shyly asks, ‘are you my Kim?’
Crudely handsome he is; desirably tan and trim
I hear the ballerinas of his heart gently scream
The five lakes in the vicinity flute with a beam
I coyly grasp the bouncing rays at the two open buttons of his shirt; a romantic scheme
The abode of the Rising Sun upsurges my deeply passionate esteem.
Copyright © Rohini Balram | Year Posted 2018
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