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Jan 2011
Gibbon minded giddy girl,
Tied a ribbon upon a curl,

Swirling divinity,
In dervish fashion,

Flipped just so,
To highlight passion.

Rouge flavored cheek,
A chance at a peek,

Of pink, and subtle
Flora.

And fauna freaks
Clamber and seek
Sustenance in skin and bone

To lay and beg
At each and every foot fall.

Sanguine lips,
And sultry hips,

Move to the rhythm
Of a butterfly’s dance.

And per chance
That I may find

The root of her wing
I shall fly once again

In winged care
Upon her currents
Of flowing hair.

Alas, it will not be so,
For I am otherwise engaged
With adulated stare

Of the brown haired woman
Dancing across the square.
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   Ty Foxx
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