James McLain Poems

A woman wore a see-through dress,
Her silhouette, a soft caress.
She walked with grace, a whispered breeze,
Through moonlit nights, beneath the trees.
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Each twist and turn, a challenge to face.
Through valleys low or mountains high,
I'll spread my wings, like birds and fly.
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Alone I am, within my cell, where shadows on the walls are not of me.
Echoes of silence, my only song.
Bound by solitude, in chains unseen,
My thoughts, embraced companions on the walls by none but I are seen.
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In her words of grace, the most handsome man,
With eyes that gleam like stars that shine,
His heart, a canvas of love's embrace,
In every step, his soul she's traced.
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In the barn's embrace, a cow I spy,
Her udders full, the milk runs high.
With gentle hands, I milk with care,
Each drop collected, a treasure rare.
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Can an unborn child, so pure and light,
Transcend the realm between day and night?
A ghostly whisper, a spirit's grace,
Could they linger, seeking a trace?
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In shadows deep, where she would hide,
A world of gray, a heart bled dry.
Her eyes once dull, lost in the haze,
Like a deer in an endless maze.
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sometimes you obtain; ; ' just to recommend'
it to milk your nipples in the new ones and
enthralling places - this public whole of mother's milk takes place at length a quiet lake,
l' perfect environment to pulverize milk outside.
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Anyone leaving or entering turns and looks.
Moving up to the edge of the bank.
The river where children I wonder at them all.
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When with your pity, my family is well.
When I leave yours with such, it is not.
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When shooting my family, it is good.
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