Have You Ever....

Have you ever, at dusk of June,
with clouds blushing in dwindling light,
inhaled the smell of ripe strawberries
oozing juices, cored and sliced;
and wished some ladled over hillocks
drizzled onto a dimpled plain,
to meander along dense floral canyons,
to seep into your flaky main;
imagined lips against a soaked edge;
incisors nibbling a crumbling crust,
tongue's soft lapping soggy substance,
loudly slurping with sumptuous lust?
Have you ever? Have you ever?
“No,” she hungered, “Never; never.”