When Art birthed Writing,
She had no idea how deeply for her daughter I’d fall.
This fille of hers, so pure in every way,
And upon each occasion we meet brightens up my day.
Of her I dream at work and likewise why I come home running.
Her body is filled with sounds that titillate my ears,
The rhythm of her movements brings me to tears.
And when we’re apart,
I contend with a void within my heart.
But then, when we become intertwined as one,
The consummation of our love shall not be undone.
She will complete me as a man,
And I will live to show her beauty as long as I can.
Copyright © Malcolm Varner