Euphony Of The South
With a bit of a rasp you taste like twang,
I’m learning your history with each vowel.
True gentlemen will occasionally scowl
but desire blooms as low murmurs hang.
I’ve imagined some voices as whiskey,
buttery smooth yet yours is different.
A little off key but a sound so eloquent,
I collapse succumbing to your euphony.
An ancient bouquet aged for millennia,
once heard your echo rings in my head.
Resembling a fantasy born and bred,
you’re my vampire holding a candelabra.
Forced to lay every hidden desire bare,
did you know the power of the Devil’s cry?
I am forced to utter a stone silent reply,
‘That southern draw is beyond compare.’
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