Her Silhouette
The tree is here, still, in pure stone,
Yet my love wakes buoyant as morn
Her plump buttocks softly kneading
On sheets ,while the fragrant air quivers
To transform her rising silhouette---
Into a curve of day’s liquescent mounds.
From Noel Onat 26th Jul 2015
Complete the Lines
No.4---Pablo Neruda
Copyright © Noel Onat | Year Posted 2015
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