Succor (not born every minute)

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

stranded on a

dessert isle

in sea of caramel topping ,

I swam across

that sticky sauce

snacking without stopping,

the shore I reached

was Sugar beach

a shining bit o’ grit,

which crystaled sweet

stuck to feet

to belly and to hip.

and so I left

before my heft

rendered me a whale,

in search of flavor

that I could savor

and jerry-rig a sail.

prompt: desert

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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