Oh yes, it has to be sweet almond oil,
a touch of cyanide perhaps for extra thrill?
I'll leave the motherland behind, on foreign soil
my hands are in demand, a secret skill.
Please let me take these off, but one by one
I'll fold them neatly, sure, we'll let them rest,
those golden rays you see are from the sun
as they encircle areolas on your chest.
To start I trickle a small measure on your skin,
and happy fingers glide through valleys and through hills,
a tiny smile now occupies your scrumptious chin
as almond fragrance smoothes out and even fills
small pores and blemishes, I know and love the lot
there is so much of you, and running out would be
an interruption to your pleasure, would it not
which does not fit and does not tally right with me.
I have a tub filled with this oil and there is more
my hands are strong and would not tire with the task.
If it's okay, my sweet I'll tend to every pore
and you can come but you don't ever have to ask.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/almond-oil/
