a path so thin and worn.
The walls close in ahead,
leaving my spirit torn.

The sun shines bright outside,
on fields I cannot roam.
My heart, it cannot hide,
a yearning to call home.

A home that's wide and free,
where I can stretch and grow,
just simply be, just me,
and watch the wild seeds sow.

Midnight lace, a whispered grace,
A gentle touch, in a tender space.
Love's soft scent, a sweet perfume,
Chasing shadows, lifting gloom.
Hand in hand, true hearts explore,
Leaving soft prints on love's own shore.

Beneath soft silks, a form so fair,
A secret beauty, beyond compare.
A gentle curve, a hidden gleam,
Like a softly waking, lovely dream.
A quiet joy, for loving eyes,
A promise held, beneath soft skies.

Lingerie is more than what lies beneath the dress;
it is the inner spark, the hidden glamour,
the private radiance that makes a woman
feel exquisite in her own skin.

And how should one care for such intimate grace?
Treat each piece with love, in time and space.
As you would tend a fragile bloom,
Or banish from a heart all gloom.
With gentle hands, a soft embrace,
A quiet reverence, time cannot erase.

So let this beauty brightly shine,
A tender joy, a love divine.
Amen.

In church, a quiet, hallowed space,
A moment spun, a gentle grace.
A woman bright, like morning's hue,
Met my gaze, a radiant view.

We left the stone, where shadows played,
And walked together, softly swayed,
To sunlit glade, where whispers bloom,
And whispered tales of life's perfume.

She asked, "How do you take your day?"
A question soft, in gentle sway.
With coffee strong, or tea so light,
A simple start, bathed in morning's might.

"A quiet pause," I softly said,
"Before the world begins to spread.
A moment's peace, before the fray,
To gather strength, in the light of day."

Her smile, a warmth that gently shone,
A mirrored grace, beneath the sun.
"A quiet heart," she softly sighed,
"A peaceful soul, where solace hides."

And in that hush, a bond was spun,
Two souls aligned, beneath the sun.
In church's peace, a love revealed,
A story whispered, to be revealed.

Upon Sidon's altar, bathed in golden light,
Where fragrant breezes danced throughout the night,
Sidon's women, with grace and nimble feet,
Did weave a ballet, a celestial treat.

Around the stones, a vibrant, living hue,
Their bodies moved, a rhythmic, flowing view.
With effortless steps, a tapestry of art,
They crushed the flowers, a delicate, sweetheart.

Meadow blossoms, soft and fragile white,
Beneath their lightness, lost in fading light.
A symphony of motion, swift and free,
A dance of worship, wild and ecstasy.

The altar glowed, a beacon in the air,
Reflecting beauty, beyond compare.
The women's spirits, soaring, light and bright,
In graceful circles, bathed in sacred light.

Their movements spoke of joy, and love, and grace,
A timeless rhythm, in this hallowed space.
A fleeting moment, captured in the past,
Where Sidon's women danced, forever cast.

Within the spark, a shadow clings.  
To claim is to let go of strings.  
Each tether tightens, each cord sings.  
A heart that's held still grows its wings.  
Possession's weight, a gilded chain.  
Love burns both bright with joy and pain.  
The giving hand shall not remain.  
What fire consumes, it must sustain.

A spark, a glance, a whispered word,
A longing deep, a soul unstirred.
The everyday, the same old dance,
A love grown quiet, a fading chance.

But words like wine, a potent brew,
Can paint a world, exciting, new.
Of touch and taste, of skin on skin,
Where passion blooms, and lives within.

Not just a need, a simple claim,
But whispered secrets, a lover's game.
Desire unveiled, no longer shy,
A shared adventure, you and I.

The fire sleeps, it embers low,
****** whispers help it grow.
Imagination takes its flight,
And paints the darkness full of light.

So read aloud, let words take hold,
A story whispered, brave and bold.
For in that fire, rekindled bright,
A deeper passion finds its light.

Soft words fall like quiet rain,  
hearts bloom where hate has lain.  
Each syllable a golden thread,  
we weave light where darkness bled.  

Rich is he who speaks with care,  
sharing wealth that’s always rare.  
Kindness sown, the world will grow,  
a brighter path for all to know.