Sep 24, 2013

His Crown

In his arms, was her first request
Under a tree made of white diamonds
A planted shrine of hope to blossom
She should be the lioness wearing sparkles

For the worthy woman has come forth
She has pulled her pride , stripped bare
To see him within her naked kaleidoscope
Those days when he shall feed his reflection

Beckoning  to her delicate, pellucid thoughts
As his comforting voice tilts her pelvis
May she ride the stallion until one knee has knelt
Swallowing her truth , giving up his crown of thorns

He knows her hair is cashmere
For her skin shades the golden warmth
He defines each curvature in every fold
Without hesitance he affirms his rib flesh

As far as the east stretches west
Their one entity can not be denied
When a slight inclination made his bed of roses swell
Now her chilled whispers, lights his drape forevermore.

jhp ©2011-2012

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