By Maggie Mink Date: 10 March 1998
The sweetest nectar escapes us,
rolling, sliding, leaving sweet trails
from mouth to neck . . . beyond.
To sample these simple pleasures,
you have finally guessed,
I am most fond.
Wish that I were this sparking nectar,
or the only sure means
to soak it up.
And so, I kiss your waiting lips,
and once again, heart racing,
I overfill you cup.