THIS THREE PART SERIES WAS WRITTEN BACK IN 98 WHEN MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER PASSED AWAY.
She's short and beautiful
With long brown hair and eyes.
Her hair flows down
Like unseen waterfalls in mystical lands.
Here eyes are the very portals
That would ensue any man.
Oh how I yearn to
Run my fingers through such locks of loveliness.
Oh how I yearn to
Stare into such portals of unforsaken beauty.
Her body is of any mans desire.
The very hourglass figure of time.
Her bosoms are perfectly rounded
And firm as ripened cantelpoupes
Fresh off the vines.
Her rear is as rounded and soft
As a fresh brick-oven baked bread
Set to cool on the windowsill.
Oh how I yearn to
Wrap my arams around her thin
Waist and pull her tight just to
Feel the beat of her bosom from a caring heart.
She smells of incense and pomegranites.
Milk and honey drip from her soft lips.
Oh how I yearn to
Experience the odours of countryside Italia.
Oh how I yearn to
Taste the sweet flavours of nature.
I would climb to the peaks of Mt. Olympus
To ask the Goddess of love, Aphrodite herself,
If it were she in human form.
For surely she is a Goddess.
Oh how I yearn to
Be seen by all the people of the land
And to hear them say:
"Where didst those two meet? They are
Perfect together. As the sunset upon mountains."
Oh how I yearn to..
