The warmth of her skin,
As I press my lips again,
To the velvet of her hand,
A soft kiss just above the band,
Which signifies our eternal union.
Slowly touching kisses one by one,
Hand, wrist, arm, shoulder,
Moving lips and hands till I hold her,
Then through her silky cascades,
My hand softly wades,
Other arm encircling her waist,
As her lips I taste,
Smooth, soft, silken and sublime,
Sweeter than cherry, or honey, or lime.
O' and the scent of her!
Enough to make a kitten purr,
Musky, sweet, and earthy,
Like the scent set free,
When it is about to rain.
And her voice such melodious gain,
When it alights upon my ear,
Can draw up a longing tear,
All her sounds, the rhythm and the rhyme,
Perfect: as if in meter and time,
To a dance only she knows,
Such is the rhythm with which she flows,
Her footsteps and her breathing,
Thrills my soul to singing.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
But let me be bolder:
This is beauty,
And even when my eyes do not see,
I know beauty when I hold her.
Not just for senses, but also character.
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