Kiran Poems LLC
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Popsicle
Popsicle By Kiran Chandra
My popsicle is dripping.
Drips are slipping down my thumb,
sticky drips are trickling quickly past my wrist.
It is sticky, slippery business,
licking popsicles in the sun.
But in scorching heat like this.
Who can resist?
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