Assignment-9
Poem
He moves like amber, warm and slow,
A burn beneath the surface glow.
His eyes, a depth, a quiet flame,
That whispers softly, calls my name.
He’s whiskey smooth, yet rough with grace,
A fire that lingers, leaves its trace.
In every sip, in every glance,
I find myself within his trance.
I love him deep, like aged oak true,
A taste of him, forever new.
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