This is the sanctuary
where the prettified young lady,
calm, and always ready,
fans her breasts, aglow,
elbow on the pillow,
hears the fountain’s flow:
it’s the room of Dorothea.
- The breeze and water distantly
sing their song, mingled here
with sobs to soothe the spoiled child’s fear.
From tip to toe, most thoroughly,
her delicate surfaces appear,
oiled with sweet perfumery.
- the flowers nearby swoon gracefully.
...
I can simply say you are one of my dearest friends on here, your poetry is amazing to say the least. I hope you become a great poet and life comes easy to you. May all your wishes come true and may you be greatly recognized by all your fans