the dip of your hip,
the high rise of your thigh---

your touch so warm,
sunshine beneath your flesh,

to caress the clouds who pass,
without disturbing upon the path between your collarbone and colourful eyes.

this has nearly become an obession,
this appreciation of your form
forming myself to you-to hold you

satin against silk these diamonds against coal stones.

what will you say, oh mushroom princess?

how will you heed such a call, lovely maiden?

-soul.

I posted this by request of Miss Alicia Wizard.

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