fleur de l'amour

Her skin so smooth, so supple,

so fresh, is cloaked in swathes

of browns and pinks and translucent nails

on her fingertips,

all so brittle so little, so right for me,

to look at with my browns and blacks and broad angled shoulders

that fit with hers like cogs in a wheel.

Her almond-shaped eyes so cute, so brown

so deep, I waded in their still waters

and lost myself to the magic

that is her and her and her.

Her whites so milky, so clear,

so pure, no wonder my fears all disappear.

Her hair so silky, so long,

it swirls like wind and smells like earth after long-awaited rain.

Her voice so gentle, so sultry,

so soft,  a Siren, she purrs

A sing-song of a thousand bells ringing from afar

Her being so close, Oh God!

So close, It’s so right

So heady with scents of bees, and babies

Of flowers and soap

With a pinch of her sweat and

Unrestrained desire

That wafts through the mists

And stabs through the fogs

She claims me for hers.