Outstretched is her palm,
forget-me-not pink,
gaily contrasting with her whitish silhouette and
honeyed lips,
so taciturn by nature
Perhaps it is that gently pursed habit that so draws me in,
the scent of promise and the
taste of paradise
She fascinates me
Dancing with men after most men have gone to sleep,
she later waltzes with the moon
until mortar and pestle have been
reduced to
skipping-stones
Her dress celebration,
Her laughter champagne,
Her manner a Sistine rendition,
“Joy Of Man’s Desiring”
When her lips do part,
not a single sweet sound emerges,
but the muted C sharp of a thousand golden sirens,
inspiring mutiny in men everywhere
And if blood is thicker than water,
honey is thicker than blood, so it is honey
which runs through her trickle veins!
Ludicrous? Perhaps. yet, O Lady
the corners of your sweet lips and fair face to me
betray promises of music,
of moondust, of honey, and
of romance, most devastating
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 1:08 AM UTC
Outstretched is her palm,
forget-me-not pink,
gaily contrasting with her whitish silhouette and
honeyed lips,
so taciturn by nature
Perhaps it is that gently pursed habit that so draws me in,
the scent of promise and the
taste of paradise
She fascinates me
Dancing with men after most men have gone to sleep,
she later waltzes with the moon
until mortar and pestle have been
reduced to
skipping-stones
Her dress celebration,
Her laughter champagne,
Her manner a Sistine rendition,
“Joy Of Man’s Desiring”
When her lips do part,
not a single sweet sound emerges,
but the muted C sharp of a thousand golden sirens,
inspiring mutiny in men everywhere
And if blood is thicker than water,
honey is thicker than blood, so it is honey
which runs through her trickle veins!
Ludicrous? Perhaps. yet, O Lady
the corners of your sweet lips and fair face to me
betray promises of music,
of moondust, of honey, and
of romance, most devastating
