*
An impulse of a theme,
in a sensation of a light beam:
I sat near by you to scribble
a verse on your beauty;
When lights and shades are on
You form a beautiful shadow
When kissable lips blooms,
the music drops away;
Sensual arousal inhibits
While ******* groomed
On your tiny ****
Its night sky lit from
within by a strange
Greenish glow.
The title begins
A woman’s hands,
With her beautiful nails,
Slaking through a junk bin in a dark,
fire lit, ash dusted place…
a lyric is born….
*
By
Williamsji Maveli
Email
[email protected]
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 5:04 AM UTC
*
An impulse of a theme,
in a sensation of a light beam:
I sat near by you to scribble
a verse on your beauty;
When lights and shades are on
You form a beautiful shadow
When kissable lips blooms,
the music drops away;
Sensual arousal inhibits
While ******* groomed
On your tiny ****
Its night sky lit from
within by a strange
Greenish glow.
The title begins
A woman’s hands,
With her beautiful nails,
Slaking through a junk bin in a dark,
fire lit, ash dusted place…
a lyric is born….
*
By
Williamsji Maveli
Email
[email protected]
Request permission to use this poem