Leaning on hollowed sticks

Laid back, lazy
resting
T-shirt and panties
sweat-moistened
clinging

The fan oscillates
pushing warm air around
silken caresses stroking my legs
like feathers

While I listen to the sultry
George Michael crooning to
the plucking of cello strings
as he's kissing a fool

Shiraz on my mind
Whilst he sits in the freeze
on chill

The time has come
to BE STILL
a passage of bad timing

© April 27, 2018, L. Karriem
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2021
About this poem:
I swear, if any Wiccan or other pagan reads the 2nd to last stanza and understands it,
I'll laugh my arse off.

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