Faint

Faint at first
her lines not fully formed
then with soft sweet passion and persuasion
she submits to her lovers draw;

In full flow her French curves are
an exquisite sight to see;
white starred and golden tipped
she is bound like a lover should be;

She is daily adored and lays sated
between his finger; his thumb;
she joins his love of language
and shapes his horizon still to come;

She teases paper, poet, mistress and his muse
before she places words deep within his chest;
words that hold more weight than the she knows
words he prays will lay long and heavy
on his lovers breath.

© Copyright D. Archer November 2011

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2 thoughts on “Faint

    • Thank you for spending your time reading my blog, I appreciate your comments. What spoke to you about that poem in particular, I want to know your thoughts and how I can improve. Thanks, Dave

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