When she laughs, her shoulder drops
Tonnes of orgasm in sweet sensations
Yet, no form of incessant penetrations
I can’t forget in a hurry where I belong
Soursops she drops on my dry tongue
Arguing with myself it must be
A blend of pineapple and strawberry
Tasting like banana and coconut mix
And sometimes pineapple and mango mix
Guess my soul developed and clamour
For her glamour and sweet flavor
There is this spirituality that atones
With mine in the manner she walks and talks,
Seems her peroration dispenses good luck.
