Little drops

Little pieces of feelings, never ending streams of data
Taken again to the post hill I watched
as they coursed slowly
Down her hills and valleys,

Oozing and squirming , her small cries an accompaniment. Take some more
and give a trail to those
coming after. After there always will be;
soft as the crackle underfoot, the sigh she gave , those verdant slithers.

Open. Taken. Given. Riven.
Slivered slowly
on slightly sharp sheets: silvered, sheened,
slithered slides, seemingly snug, slovenly, slatternly and sluttily, she showed she's
His.

Only His.