Replying to a comment on:
Tarragon
(
Free verse
) by
D. $ Fontera
Her voice weaves sweet, thick spices into me. She chassés and her hips send thoughts of romance and what whispers do. We eat quickly to match our flickering glances. A faint, burning aroma clouds our minds to that which matters most.
LilMsLadyPoet
26-Aug-05/4:11 PM
I adore: "Her voice weaves sweet,"...awesome line...perhaps change chasses to 'shifts'?...
'She shifts and her hips
send thoughts of romance'...etc.
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