My Dream Woman
Teresa this silky brown woman her breasts surged upward
seeking the heavens. Her hair, a cascade of ebony, reached
to the small of back and down there, between voluminous
thighs a honeycomb of lustre, not given freely to any bee
that passed her way.
She called me a blond Viking – I´m bald now- and we sailed to
St. Lucia to meet her parents. Wedding an no expenses were
spared, but then disaster struck and I had leave.
When I returned Teresa had married am engineer, and I said:
how come you could do this to me?
Her answer was simple, the wedding was set and If the groom
didn´t show up, she would be a laughingstock on the Island...
and that is why I never married and still is a bachelor forever
looking for a woman like Teresa.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem