Tarte Au Citron

cool sterling twirled
between his fingers
before plunging once
twice three times

deliberate diving into
sunlit groves coming
up for air chewing zest
that colored his teeth

yellow he paused inhaled
life’s fragrance savored
her plummeting again into
crème Chantilly whipped

perfection dark vanilla
dreams melting on his
tongue while he mused a
tender butter crust

Pamela A. Rossow

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26 thoughts on “Tarte Au Citron”

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