Cold against the bare skin
of warm, deep-lined palm,
colder like a December midnight
against the tastebuds of tongue.
Brick-hard on top of a hand—
so fragile and so soft.
Sweet, chewy ‘side the calcium cave
with teeth-made loft.
Perhaps, humans are winter gums—
sugar-coated, guarded, armored
at first glance,
melting, undressing, when inside
a found home with sincere,
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
Here is the gum I held to birth this poem. 🙂