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.





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