Prepare thus the bride chamber,
Good ointment smell doeth linger.
No kiss of mouth sweet as thine,
Naught compares to her passion’s wine.
By my side my beauty bride,
My rapture I cannot hide.
She opens her gown seam,
Beauty reveals as a dream,
My flower I see in thy skirt,
With thy sweet nectar I flirt.
With strokes of passion we toy,
With bursts of pleasure we Joy.
Copyright © john freeman