Paul Brookes
Aug 22, 2017 · 1 min read
Photo By Paul Brookes

My First Snog

Midsummer party I drink too much.
You are sixteen I am seventeen.

After a week with saw, hand axes
loppers to cut back Rhododendrons,

make space for trees to breathe,
your eyes have a fire in them,

my sozzled lips meet yours,
the surprise of your smooth teeth

as my tongue trips and twirls
round yours, you inhale my air,

I heave in suffocation, gradually
learn to breathe through my nose,

inhale your fragrance as if in a summer
wood where leaves and blossoms float.

Poetry Under Cover

continuing the work of Poetry After Dark - a home for your deepest loves and hottest passions - come join us

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Paul Brookes

Written by

Writer, historian,fam & loc., shop assist., security guard, postman, admin. assistant, photographer, lecturer, performer with "Rats for Love". Counter intuitive

Poetry Under Cover

continuing the work of Poetry After Dark - a home for your deepest loves and hottest passions - come join us

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