Staring blankly up at my thoughtful face
Naked, exposed, embarrassed, she blushes
As my eyes intimately probe her space.
Slowly I touch her (no poet rushes),
My carbon pressing gently on her skin,
Stroking her with my creative massage,
She relaxes to me and we begin
Our whirlwind romance, with her entourage
(The muses, creativity and fate)
Dancing over her, reaching out for me,
Connecting my thoughts to this new soul mate.
When I think I have her she struggles free
For now, filled with confidence, she wants other eyes
To feast on her form, kiss her rhyme and taste her sighs.