Foolish young girl, in way over her head.
Brazen and cute from her toes to head,
feeling control over all that she met.
Martini olive shimmering skin;
contrasting with crystal white,
Miami Beach sand.
Emerald waters lapped at her feet.
Moves so inciting; jewelry for eyes.
Predisposed breasts influenced her ways.
A skeletal waist above thin shapely hips;
suspended by the harmonious length of her legs.
Naked veritable lasting command,
cradled the minds of the men that she met.
Her age and identity, a secret she kept.
No one could possibly guess.
Not the faintest of evidence,
that she was -
but a child.
She taunted and played,
passing herself around like a hat.
Rented by many by the age of sixteen,
their status in queue on her answering machine.
In a few short years,
she would begin to lose luster.
Like a Ghost Orchid, when torn from a tree,
we weep in the absence of the beauty
we lose...
Gifted with power of any kind, one must temper the wielding of it with wisdom. Beauty is power, no question; but every empire falls eventually. This poem is dense with wonderful language, images, melding beautifully!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.