The beauty of the woman is gripping,
You watch as she sits in her marble throne.
Her bare splendour chains you to her bidding,
One glance and she chills you to the bone.
Her blond hair sits atop her head,
One strand falling down the nape of her
neck.
Like a needle with a tail for a thread,
Like a cyclone, havoc her beauty wrecks.
With every breath, she whirls her
observer’s heart,
For it is a man, caught in her snare.
He was trapped from the start,
Her beauty almost too much to bear.
And still she continues to breathe.
And breathe.
And breathe.
No comments:
Post a Comment