Quickness
By sweetbrother
She is a festival for my mind and eyes; I drink each drop of her satisfied, but wanting more I struggle to keep up with the quickness of her and the quickness of my pulse around her; she doesn't know, she is laid back, relaxed in her delight; she doesn't know, the quickness of her smile, leaves me dumb and blind After just nine days' acquaintance she wakes the muse, she gives me poems written as I imagine a barefoot walk across her moist earth my motives pure for now, I struggle with the quickness of what she does to me. Written October 30th, 2001 © on Oct 30 2001 01:25 AM PST 0 • 8
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"She is a festival..."