Soft supple like a new babe’s bottom
the contours of your waist feels to my touch.
No sharp angle, no jutting sword
that springs out at you while you duel and jaunt
Round and shapely like a graceful pear
the curves of your hips call out to me in sight.
No box of secret, just a woman’s tale that wish-washes
when she walks seducing my eyes and the coils of my soul.
Strong and mighty like am amazon princesses,
the swift moves of your legs mesmerise the inner sanctum of my mind
No stilts of wood, just flesh and glory
that makes a manhood jolt as heels add to the magnificence of these two combined.
A marvel of the true world, a figure of 8,
the epitome of an hourglass slinking through time
to capture a life worth living, knowing and savouring
like expensive wine of a distinguished time.