Ode To Corn
My teeth crunch into golden heaven,
savoring fresh cream and salt.
This is my tenth - wait, no - eleventh
cob of corn. Time for a malt.
Corn cob, Mom, Bob,
Can't have another?
We love each other,
so you must.
Cob of corn, my golden heaven,
After you I love to lust.
Copyright © Carolyn Dewey | Year Posted 2018
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