My Dear Rose
My Dear Rose
My Dear Rose. If I was to read for you, My Dear Rose. A poem of beauty, as only few words could show. Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body. A whisper of grace and elegance, without noise of gaudy. See her breast cupped; stretch the stitches of her blouse. As if swollen with milk, my flame only her water could douse. Lingers of secluded comfort, like a forest cottage house. My fingers warm between her soft cleavage, like a hiding mouse. Her nipples harden from my whispers in the air. As her body heats up, her sweat gives off a scent so rare. Undress her body, sounds of her clothes as they tear. Like electric musical notes, rise from her body like hair. No other woman has ever had a skin so fair. Like a roses petals, no other flower could compare. Taunting Eden's apple, as if to rival a pear. See her sway her thighs and hips. Like a rose in the wind, petals swell from the tips. Softest leather feel, back arched like a crack from the whip. Tall smooth legs, like a mast of a ship. And the rain on her sails, taste of honey to lips. Your arms like shields, rose's petal points lifted. Touch of your fingers, ten angel pianists, heavenly gifted. Easily make a man's emotions feel shifted. Dancing in the mind of every dream he has drifted. Those smooth long legs spread like the wings of a flyer. Inner thighs speak a truth that would mute a liar. And drip sweet smelling nectar that excites a man's desires. Like an addictive drug, that makes him only want to get higher. Her smooth bottled neck, over her soft shoulders Holds a face of beauty, eyed in all beholders. A rose lost in the forest, graceful, triumphant, and wild. Enchanted mystic youth, pretty, majestic, like a fairy's child. Beautiful arms even Hercules could not grace. Like two pythons, leave a man breathless in embrace. And the pressure they do impart, Have the power to forever imprison your lover in your heart. I could never forget her sweet smelling perfumed hair. Blowing in the air as if God's winds, were trying to stare. Her eyes which contact made you frozen, Put you in a spell that made you swear that you were chosen. Trapped in fleeting notions, Her lips tasting of Love's potions. If I was to read for you, My Dear Rose. A poem of beauty, as only few words could show. Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body. A whisper of grace and elegance, without noise of gaudy.
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KAMILA, BOM DIA DOCE CORAÇÃO! Beijos meu amor.......
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ALosAmigos
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To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.. Las horas que pases, las horas del día, vos estàs leyendo conmigo sera
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