A Bourbon Love
A Bourbon Love
Through a glass of bourbon he found her.
Her eyes, Flaming Blue, hiding a glance of Heaven.
Her hair golden like the reflection of an English buttercup,
Open to the flirtations of the sun.
Her lips soft, pink,
Like the dawn over a distant tulip field,
With a promise to reveal, even more,
Moist, sweet, the taste of a woman.
Her neck, slim, elegant, with a hint of summer,
Jewelled with faint dew drops from the evenings heat.
Her shoulders, graceful, a ballerinas calling
Perfectly formed, a place for heroes,
To rest their head.
Her arms slender, delicate, with a promise of an angels embrace.
An embrace that could wash away, all your sins.
Her dress clinging to her body, like the lilies in a pond,
Hiding the secrets below.
Her wrist adorned with a single pearl,
But it is she who is more precious.
No mortal offering could eclipse her.
Her hands soft, with a touch,
That I would gladly die for.
No ring, dare I wish?
Her legs, long, perfectly formed,
Made to move, like a gentle summer wind,
Caressing the flowers of some meadow,
In a far away dream. Breathtaking.
When she walked the whole world stood still
She glanced, our eyes met
My soul was stolen,
Engulfed in flames of desire
My heart penetrated, laid bear with a love so rare,
My mind lost in sweet expectation.
A feeling beyond, any poets gaze.
She smiled, my body quivered
For this moment, I would gladly lead the forlorn hope.
These seconds, I remember them so well.
I was overwhelmed by the closeness of her spirit,
Her presence commanding an invisible audience,
Of stolen glances.
A vision of woman, of such form, such desire
Such love.
Then like a gentle whisper, her body, brushed against mine
, leaving the air perfumed
Like orchids being carried by a holy dove.
Then my heart shattered, strewn across the floor,
Like yesterdays confetti.
For the smile, was for some one else.
Copyright © Steven Cooke | Year Posted 2011
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