The Bus Driver

The prettiest thing I’ve seen today Is often there a rare display The shinning star in her constellation That moves about insighting sensation Like music to the ears A treasure to the eyes What the tongue calls sweet A smile labeled compleat Desire driven by the shape of the eyes The hour glass figure is no surprise Cheeks with dimples that paralyze Hair tamed by curls supplied The length of which says satisfied How precious this feeling of being hugged With eyes embracing the pinnacle of love The momentary destination Of heaven from above The meaning of pleasure Satisfaction without measure