Head tilted to the side. She blushes; She's clay to the touch, Flesh to the mind.
My fingers, like passengers aboard the Santa Maria, explore a new world- Every inch, Every crevice, Every curve;
She's the Venus de Milo- Timeless. Classic.
Delicate like a ribbon fluttering downward, pulled from her hair by lover's passion.
Her ******* are molded- islands along the ocean I swim- and an art form is born; The simple movements: Up, Down, To-and-fro. Well thought out, but not choreographed.
Color her like the Roses on my tongue; Entangled and Infatuated, They speak of Youth, Naivety, nervousness....
Step back and She blossoms to life. A monument lays before me; the mortal achieve immortality.