Woman who I love
Your mind is a book of poems,
Your poetry is a romantic window
To my heart.
You whose perfume is rose;
Lavender skin
Of pure naked love.
Your lips I long
To make love to
With my kiss of eclipses,
Of sonnets,
Of Chopin-noctornal
Jazz.
Your curves of sun and moon
I want to caress
With my generous body
As passionate lover.
I feel you.
Your mellifluent tongue
Weaves poetic gaelic songs
In the timbre of ****** voice.
Whose eyes like a forest
Of campanillas
My heart and gaze
Looks deep into;
Waiting for your response.
Your smiles and you're cuteness
Makes me want more.
I smile back.
Woman who I love,
I'm in awe.
©Jack Aylward,
26/1/14
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Woman who I love
Your mind is a book of poems,
Your poetry is a romantic window
To my heart.
You whose perfume is rose;
Lavender skin
Of pure naked love.
Your lips I long
To make love to
With my kiss of eclipses,
Of sonnets,
Of Chopin-noctornal
Jazz.
Your curves of sun and moon
I want to caress
With my generous body
As passionate lover.
I feel you.
Your mellifluent tongue
Weaves poetic gaelic songs
In the timbre of ****** voice.
Whose eyes like a forest
Of campanillas
My heart and gaze
Looks deep into;
Waiting for your response.
Your smiles and you're cuteness
Makes me want more.
I smile back.
Woman who I love,
I'm in awe.
©Jack Aylward,
26/1/14
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