Your time is short,
The hour’s near, the cold’s your wonder,
Little dear.
You buck and rattle,
Shake your tail.
The blood’s a boiling,
Dripping brew.
The tendons taut
And flesh so young
That frenzy drives me on
To you.
Smell the feast between
Your thighs,
Your belly split
From side to side.
I carry forward,
Slobber down,
Matted fur and eyes a fury.
Your weakness is arousing—
Hurry!
Near a crest your form
Is clear.
Leave the trail, I’ll see you through.