It may be in error,
but it's in
the air

in my daring,
smelling
of her
hair

and still of no detriment,

to my caring for her glare,
when she caught me there,
eyes closed,
sniffing her
clothes

unaware

as to her presence,
her elegance,
her observational,
lingering

through her fare

Unhindering my endearing,
to her scent,
in exemption,

as she's staring
unto my intent'
and simply
smiling

She, the beautiful mess,
in a light sweat,
on a peach
blessed
with
beautiful flesh,

as her alluring
scent,

took me
where i haven't been

yet

And
I'm

staying.