The proud, seeking Taproot,
To immerse, is his primary pursuit.
He craves gentle warmth, from shaft to head,
He blends with his surroundings demanding to be fed.
He grows erect and stout,
As Mother Nature's fingers work round about.
Molding and shaping, with gentle caress,
The Taproot, feels much happiness.
Her fingers, grip, pull and the friction causes heat,
Although pressure is building, there is no retreat.
The Taproot quivers and moisture begins to flow,
The kneading continues, to and fro.
Faster and faster on the slip and slide,
Sudden release lets the nectar glide.
An oozing flood, glistens all around,
The Taproot revels in the warmth he's found!