Dressed as a gypsy, Neet's photo I saw,
Her eyes were so hot, solid ice they could thaw.
Wearing her veil, in true gypsy fashion,
bared smoldering eyes, that flaunted her passion.
Come hither they said, (just get not too close,
or hearts in those men, would need diagnose) .
Once under her spell, their resistance would crash;
any man could fall victim, when her lashes, she flashed.
Deep, alluring, beyond gorgeous, they were;
In thousands of men, their loins they did stir.
Her lust you'd imagine, in so many ways;
just one night with her, you're exhausted for days.
Hollywood came calling, they needed those eyes!
For movies and posters…, was that a surprise?
Passionate, fiery, yet innocent and kind,
The populace adored her, even those blind.
Much time, has passed, since that photo was taken.
She's lovelier today, her beauty, unshaken.
Tomorrow the same, and for many to come,
And though she complains, I remain mum,
‘Cause decades ago, was when I first succumbed.
My beauty has passed, she protests to me,
I listen, and smile, but never agree.
To this lovesick suitor, forever she'll be,
That gypsy-eyed beauty, my heart always sees…
Copyright © 2012 -
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is my favorite! Thousands of loins - but who's counting? ;)