pretty woman

The very first glimpse of you,
Blinded me like the sun’s rays,
Like a transfiguration, you stood;
Like fascination, my nerves stirred.

Erupting affection and longing,
My thoughts filled with fantasies,
Like taste, I savoured every moment;
Like selfishness, I wanted you for myself.

Your smile inebriated my spirit,
My will, I humbly lay at your feet,
Like a servant, I’m at your service;
Like the sunflower, I bow at your rising.

Your gracefulness emits delight,
Gleefully composed to glorify nature,
Like precision, your stride steps splendidly;
Like a red carpet, I scatter flowers for you.

As finical as chocolatey, your skin,
Marinated in shea butter, sweltered by sun,
Like glow, it radiates within sight’s radius;
Like elegance, you carve lustfulness in men.

An undulating landscape, your curves,
Shaped to fit the contours of the palm,
Like yearning, my thoughts welled desire;
Like enthusiasm, sensuality flourished.

The first words out of your mouth,
The wax melted out of my hearing,
Like mesmerise, I heard melodic tunes;
Like surrender, obedience is my maxim.

Oblige me to smile your pain away,
Filling your thoughts with happiness,
Like forever, our blissful moments will last;
Like an empress, soaked in an aromatic bath.

youthful bliss

A time ago, youthfulness was my friend;
And my solitary taste was pleasure,
Laughter was the jingle of the music,
Indulgence, my escort to and from places.

He initiated me in smoking’s abode;
Two shrines for vodka and beer, I built,
And sexuality soared through the clouds,
Mesmerising gratification, my world view.

In heightened bliss, my conscience perished;
Diffused into a seductive enigma,
And drowned in the ideals of enthralments,
Warnings, splashed as graffiti on walls, ignored.

As swirl as mighty, I slowly exhale;
A rapturous state of bungee jumping,
And the kicks I got, perpetual sovereignty,
Harder to describe, blissful to experience.

Such has been my verve, until now;
Time has metamorphosed into adulthood,
And I have not the moment to spare,
Marriage, children, work and responsibilities.

How I wish I can turn back time;
A bagful of misgivings, a pricey price to pay,
Differently, and cautiously, would I have lived.
‘Better late than never’, the chorus I now sing.