Attend my thoughts of yonder lass,
Her figure and her form,
As if a statue made of glass,
Yet with a heart so warm...
For when she speaks, quicksilver flows,
From educated lips...
When she shakes hands, temptation grows
And lingers at her hips...
Her cheeks so near to make her blush
Then catch her by surprise...
Her hair cascades like wines that gush,
Her highlights match her eyes...
Her teeth outshine the whitest pearls,
Her lips like fingers meet...
Her purity shames other girls,
Her spirit stands complete...
And when I gaze, her gaze meets mine,
We both like what we see...
One day she'll be my Valentine...
For she's the girl for me...
Denis Martindale March 2020.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem