Possawat Piankij

She makes me the luckiest man,
Making me fly above the land.
She is cute like others
But there is something covered.

I kiss her pretty lip,
Holding her fascinating hip.
Slowly, I try to undress her,
Getting lost in her nice eyes

Her kiss is sweet like honey
That cannot be bought with money
Her body is as white as milk.
Her hair is like a good silk.


Upon unveiling her body,
I gently smell her skin,
Taking off her hairpin
And feeling her fair hair.

My hands keep running on her
Like a morning train.
And she fain let me do so,
Knowing that it's heavenly love!

I stop my morning train
When I see something on the pane.
They are her white wings
That make her the special living thing.


- One Whistle -