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By Blue Song Date: 2001 Oct 13 Comment on this Work [[2001.10.13.11.16.21300]] |
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Flowers, in your hair, growing madly every, like, where. A clinging rose upon thy breast, violets blue across deep cleft. Maidens mist through yon toes, while daisy's mark each delicate ear. Tiger lily drapes fair throat,, wild orchids grace the hands, forget -me- not's upon round thighs... Ah, now i have to remark, flowers not my true passion be but what is hidden, soft, beneath. For i find the beauty of these quite pale next to the bare skin upon which they press. |