She's ethereal,
lighter than a feather,
floats magically
on painted toes.

The mane she wears
is a splendid thickness
& her hips
make me bite my lips
with fiery desire.

Her veil of ruby sequins
hides the prettiest face
& her amber-eyes
burn beautifully,
shades of grace.

Her flowered-*******
are made from
the finest French lace
& I have constant visions
of being with her,
sliding them off
slowly
over at her place,
to make
our dreams come true.