The Description of the Queen
I have gazed upon her eyes to wonder why? For they have brought me a memories of another for I could not have. Yes, this is what I saw? Her skin black like the night that plays together as like passing, Her eyes brown that holds the mystery of her, Her lips light to touch form like those playful clouds children love to shape, Her nose speak to breathe but don't dare, The whole lining of her face for which it took the maker an life times to create, just so that whatever man true of heart may hold her all the days of his life. Her shoulders lenght to her arm to hands are beautifully form from what mejesty, Her chest made flat to hold the two mountains that are her breasts, her breasts like two circles that tenderly move ever so slowly as I tremble showing me their true form like babies out to play, Her belly like her chest flat but like with a masculinity of a well bound mother. How neatly shaped the hair on her garden , which show the flesh that has brought men to their knees. I alone desire to speak and meet, but she walked away with her Buttlock gently moving from side to side declaring her womanhood. For she is the Queen of a once forgotten kingdom, The Queen of the Kinglessking. The wholeness of her body spoke to say, Take this kiss upon your lips with the parting of you, thus this much let me avow you are not wrong. who deem that my days be but an dream, yet, hope has frowned away into the night, or in the day, or, in a vision, or, in none. is it therefore the less gone? For all that we see or seen, I stand amid a roar of suf-tortured souls, and I hold within my hands grains of golden sand, How few, yet how they creep through my fingers into the deep. while I weep! while I weep? O YAH can I not grasp tighter clasp? O YAH can I not save but one from the pitiless waves all that I see or seen? Her beauty to me was like those nice yoke that Genlty moves over a perfume sea. The weary way worn wonderer bore to her own native on desperate sea long to want. Her hyacinth woody hair, Her classic face, Her naiad air that has brought me to see her glory? O the grandeur that was lo in her brilliant willow niche statue like I saw her there? The agate lamp that is in her soul! (ah) Psyche from the region which are holy
Copyright © Ronald Campbell | Year Posted 2019
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