The soul held in my fragile bosom,
In my spirit dancing to foggy tunes,
Forged in midnight bliss,
Where the moon kissed my painted heart
Laying on soft spongy green grass,
Eyes beheld the velvet-orange skies,
Seconds bore ages of twilight whispers,
When ecstatic emotions like fireworks,
Formed rainbow clouds floating in the mirror of our eyes
Dusk with no end,
Treading upon the path where scented petals
Rained on her curly long dark hair,
Purple mist mildly fading to the sound of swallow wings,
Her bright white eyes reflecting Jupiter’s bright August lights,
Humming to the pitch less calm soothing tone of the wind,
Her voice tasted of peaches and wild berry dipped in honey chocolate,
There in lost in wonder whose goose pimples melted my ego,
I had but died a thousand deaths when her eyes rubbed mine,
A pure seed bred from the golden sands of Africa,
Her trait groomed in the cascades of Sipi falls
I died again and again
And again,
For the milky, sweet, thrills she gave
My heart could not but carry.
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