Moist

Evokes disgust in some;

giggles in another.

The consequence of a spillt drink;

the prize of the cake.

The studs in the walls fear her;

the grass in the field waits

earnestly for the proof of

her quality.

A smooth surface she complicates for the feet;

the towel of her disposition

holds the bowl in place.

Weaponized against the barber;

life-giving for the Berber in

Gibraltar.

Her mouth-feel when spoken is

slippery and sensual;

perfect for reviving an aged conversation.

The furrowed brow of the captured spy

resents her tell;

her touch on the skin is proof of our living.

Moist, hated by the soldier in the Ardennes trench;

loved by him stationed in the Arabian days.