Modern Poetry | The Photograph
The Photograph
If I could paint
I would paint this.
Frame it with gold
And hang it, to gaze.
Paint it again and
Again, place it everywhere.
I know it is but image
But my heart wants this.
Image of beauty
Enigmatically true.
Skin of cream
Shape of virtue.
Shoulders divine
My eye is delighted.
Burning her image
To impatient brain.
Vulnerable too
She need not fear.
My love is gentle
Feeling sensibilities.
Waiting for a signal
To give more.
Matching her need
Rising like the tide.
Imagination racing
Standing behind,
Brushing lips on shoulder
Feeling her dew.
Vermilion lips
To tease and gently kiss.
Makes my soul
Tremble to its core.
She has passion
To match mine.
From warm to hot
Mind and body.
Soon we will meet
Loving each.
Statuesque, frozen
But no she is warm.
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