¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
"O my dearest,
darling, bijou,
*born the silver
worker's daughter*,
"*how so fortunate
mine eyes
to witness thine
palatial wonder*!
"Mine pleasure t'*would
to take hold and
to pick the fruits
among your vine*—
"*the shyest heart
of rose hips what
has pewter cruxes
bold t'shine*!
"*And as eyes and
I pay credit
to a distent,
nearing nimbus*..
"These gem'*nate
tongues b'twine as
oaken staves—
the Brav'ra Lingus*!"
(..she responds,)
*"Mine auburn falls
for thee*, my dove,
but thy fervence, *once
to mine*, abates?"**
"Quite, my dear..
"tho, *ginger trapped
in tantric bond
what's sweetness*, *rare
n'a boon*, belates!"
*"..well*, *then
please use a condom,"**
she said*.