Vesuvius
Chest Volcano
The painful spot on my chest,
stood like Vesuvius, without
the flow of lava-pus, or nue-
ardent of racing dust, to the
tanned, hot skin below.
A spot without pus, I fussed
and mused, how strange this
errant child?
The days turned to nights and
the spot turned to bump; a
minute lump of skin and
awkward cells, perhaps?
But now it’s fled, from hairy,
sweaty, manly chest; but, tell
me; where’s it gone?
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015
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