The Girl With The Raven Tresses Poem by Resten Swondo

What smile made this soul quiver?
Shiver on this day in her audible stare
Each fingertip touch made the world
Tremble at the thought of caressing
A tress of her raven hair.

What love is held aloft in the sky
By each thought we forget is nought
But the desire we have given
In the quiet embrace of fortune,
In the tresses of her raven hair.

Electric touches find their spark
On yielding skin dappled in tense
Desire, quaking in raptures moved
By the bliss of moment oblivion,
Scented by tresses of her raven hair.

This world shakes off its slavery
And wakens the soul the moment
Each tress of raven hair
Lay rooted on a pillow
Next to your own, asleep.