Naked
It was as much a hinder as a clatter
a soft splatter of broken love
delicious melted caramel
on creamy lips of summer fog.
I do not forget her of hers
a fine progression of my past;
wanton, waiting, wishing for more
all silk-lined in shawls, nothing else.
I prefer them that way
who can blame me?
ajs
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andy spaschak
I have been writing poetry for over forty years, Published in magazines, ezines, etc. I currently live in New Jersey as I recover from stage four throat cancer. I have not been able to speak for three years so my voice has become my poetry, photography, and guitar.
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