Somewhere, could it be on the cobbled street or back alley,
I have never traveled beyond your beauty and experience,
Slightly ahead of me in your most fragile gesture, I’m
surrounded by you.
The slightest look enchants me, like a rose petal opening
it releases, your perfume, enclosing all around me, I’m
dazzled and stunned by your secret beauty.
You move like fine wine, slowly swirling around in my
crystal glass, reflections of your beauty, I taste and
swallow very slowly, and like melting snow, you and
I descending into sweet romance’s intentions.
The fragility of your beauty can’t be perceived, our world
clashes, mine from beyond, yours in the streets of Paris
I breath you in, taking you whole, a French beauty from
a village beyond time.
I do not know what it is about your presence that captures
mine, but it opens something in me to listen to your voice
whisper in dialect that deepens straight to my heart,
Not even the rain and mist can dissipate your beauty
Your long black hair, blushing red lips, your bare throat
reflecting the sun’s reflective light upon smooth skin
so fare and white, honey sweet to my mouth, I want
to taste you, draw you in, a field, a pasture to roam
Oh how you linger still, the Moulin Rouge and Toulouse
beckons you as colors and their textures compel me to
follow you and be your palette, live within your tender
supple thighs, as if understanding, in between captured
phrases, a voice, your eyes, become my very soul’s
desire, like a fire, unquenched I am, as slowly the Paris
foggy mist and rain, like a silhouette disappear before me.
© Copyright Vincent Moore 2016. All Rights Reserved