Her Beauty
by Max Plowman
I heard them say, “Her hands are hard as stone,”
And I remembered how she laid for me
The road to heaven. They said, “Her hair is grey.”
Then I remembered how she once had thrown
Long plaited strands, like cables, into the sea
I battled in -- the salt sea of dismay.
They say, “Her beauty’s past.” And then I wept,
That these, who should have been in love adept,
Against my font of beauty should blaspheme
And hearing a new music, miss the theme.
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The beauty of her body was the essence of her soul.
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Playful Desires
Our Touches Build Desire Between Us Both.
The Feel Of Skin On Skin.
Your Hand On My Chest, Then Traces Down My Waist.
Mine Reaches Around Your Neck.
Coming Closer To Kiss You & Drink You In.
Then The Playful Desires Begin.
Mmmm..
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