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Farmers

Submitted by on Tuesday, 24 May 2016, 01:34 PM | True Story | English
Categories: Erotic   Tags: ,

Red is the color of the creamy paste 
Cascading down, pooling in the basin 
Between the soft rocky bed 
Guarding the hidden spring 

Like peacocks parading around her innocence 
Unmindful of the cries of the one receiving 
In their shinning colorful feather 
They looses sight of what's beneath 

Like bulls looking one sided 
Never blinks while they pursued her 
Such strengths, such heavy bodies 
Weighing on top of her 

The seed was planted 
The earth barren no more ...


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