26 June, 2008 at 19:12 (Uncategorized)

Lagavulin served in a warm glass.
Straight to the back of the throat,
that heady ecstasy,
as I breathe in the perfume,
of joy.
How many does it take?
Before the joy and the savouring,
of one glass,
turns into,
desire for more, urgent need,
to taste it, again.
Another glass, another,
and the slow, gentle, deliciousness,
of the warm glass,cools,
and we pour again,
licking the sticky drops from my lips.
To quaff, such a waste,
straight to the back of the throat,
and I am drunk on too much joy,
wiping ecstasy,
sheepishly from my cheeks,
breathing in,
the scent of desire.

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