The model lies before us like a swan,
Like moonlight draped, her soft smooth languorous form,
All argent, and luxuriously warm
Seems something everyone can dream upon.
She swoons like alabaster or chiffon,
And seems, perhaps, not like a sleeping storm,
What with her elegant and lissome form,
But like someone conjured by Oberon.
Her sweet breasts kiss the pillow like a hope
That someone gracious, gentle, some bold prince,
Some knight, some prayer, will let her sleep her fill
And not disturb her like some cloddish dope,
Nor make her, with some boorish gesture, wince:
Our nocturne, lovely as a whippoorwill!
Copyright 2008 Anissa Nedzel Gage
No comments:
Post a Comment