(A friend's uncle once asked why there weren't any poems about Mars Bars. This is why.)
Nails glinting in the glow of candlelight,
she grips the bar and gently pulls apart
the waxy coal-black petals that surround
the glossy round intoxicating end.
Her fingers' friction pulls the wrapper down:
the rigid rough-cast bar appears erect;
the chocolate delight now in her hand
moves closer to the parted scarlet lips,
left shining by her moistened tongue-tip's trail.
Her mouth encompasses the firm dark girth
and feels it turn to liquid on her tongue;
withdrawing it, a sticky trickle tries
to crawl towards her chin, but tries in vain,
tamed by her tongue, which coaxes it inside.
She swallows, smiles, and sighs - she's satisfied:
as theobromine pulses through her veins
the joy's not over - half the bar remains...
Wild Bill Balding
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mars-bar/
