Monday, January 13, 2014

ain't she sweet

To Her Coy Tootsie
with a nod to Andrew Marvell
Had I but willpower and time,
And were you any less sublime,
I would unwrap you bit by bit,
But only as you would permit.
When we escaped the candy store,
We'd travel down to Ecuador
To see how sugar cane is grown
Way down there in the Torrid Zone.
Raw coal would harden to a gem
Before I grasped your paper stem;
Your cherried shell would crystallize
Before I claimed it as my prize;
Millennia would pass before
I licked down to your Tootsie core.
For Toots, you're the epitome
Of what a candy treat should be.
But in my blood I feel the thrum
Of sugar lust, and must succumb.
Now therefore, while your wrapper's soft
And supple, let me take it off
To taste the cherry of your shell
And revel in your choc'late spell.
And since your maker has rolled all
Your sweetness up into one ball,
I'll have you now, and I won't stop
Until we're one, my Tootsie Pop.

by Pamela Arlov
in volume 2 issue 2

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