Donna

Her tender lips
kiss
Jack Daniels
on the rocks;
reward succulence in red
to Glencairn Glass.
Djarum Black
escapes
from her plump pucker;
lends
sensuality to morning air.
My woman,
Donna,
is dead
to the world.
Moon
bathes her in silver
as the morning sun
frolics
to catch her glimpse.