The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Vanilla Moan

Electric eyes behold...
A screaming piece of fluffy Shakespheare runs through my veins.
Winter's cooling fingers from prizes refrains.
Breath of Shakespheare in my lungs remains.
Like a playful kitten frozen in mid-dance...
He whispers his soft vanilla moan to the world...
"Hold my Art in your hands, hark the gentle mating call."
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace