Lust In Love

Wriggled in her arms,

Lost in an adventure of romance,

Moving for afield,

Though I have no weakness for writing,

My story still got underway,

Wallowing in the admiralty of her beauty,

Adorned with beautiful antique ornament,

Adulterated with the laudable attribute of nature,

Epitomizing the 6th day work,

And the adroit molding of the creator,

Esconed on her chest,

For an aeon of time,

Only my hand left to keep the memory of time.

Touching the acme of her chest,

Pointing like that of sheba,

Turning it to a piccolo,

Without an acoustic.

Acknowledge the change of weather in her laps,

Warning the cold in my hand,

Letting my hand becoming an ace

And my phalanges adept in describing her body,

My eye falling over itself

To keep the facsimile of her body

And my skin falling in with my eyes

As two spent swimmers, that do cling together.

Which has never been afeared,

Her skin like a flower that never fade in autumn

And less of a acne in winter

How I wish our spirit is adjoined forever

Like fifes and drum that makes good sound

Keeping myself in light of your love.