Was she not flushed in her silky skin tones
man’s longing heart could do her no wrong.
Weary was thy glances she’s casting this haze
her warm glaze ensuring my simmering daze.
Echo’s of sounds the lost chambers in sea shell
the scorpion’s bite! it’s the same pain as it swells.
Petals of light shimmering through her golden hair
breast of doves take flight they’re floating on air.
Spring doe’s prance in meadows having no care
thou sweet scent whispers as my nostrils flare.
Your sundress slings as it cling to every curve
oh ye’ tender touch intensifies my every nerve.