butter would melt
on her
as if she was a hot
piece of toast
sweetened with jam
from the berries
of some
bucolic farm.
square and cool at the same
time. edgy and sharp.
leaving kisses like
crumbs
all over you.
a surprise
when she popped from
the toaster,
ready for fun.
she was a loaf of good times.
whole
wheat and rye. warm
and delicious as you
bit her tongue,
the morning sun
in her big brown eyes,
but
if left out overnight
she could easily go
stale, and sadly,
become
sourdough at times.
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