She sat under the willow,
Waiting for him.
Her blonde hair
Rolling with the winds
Tickling her cheeks
Thoughts drifted in her head
One by one,
As she raised her knee
In the silver lunar beam
Her white robe,
Slid in fragile wisps of silk,
Ridding the milky white skin
Of obstacles
As the lake reflected
The silver orb in the sky
On her alabster feature
She closed her eyes
Her eyelashes brushing her cheeks
Bringing forth the color of
A rose of the softest pink,
On a sun kissed day
Her robe slid down
Lower,
The air was calm,
She twisted her neck
And saw the blazing emerald
Of his eyes.
His hands met her skin
And there was
No more words passing
Only gentle murmurs of
Love entwined
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A passionate bit of eroticism!