Was it the way my eyes, developed your thought?
Or my thighs, that encouraged you to talk.
Could it be my lips, that enticed your breath to leave?
Was it my breast, that whispered love's enchanting pleas?
Maybe it's my scent, sensual, sexy and overpowering.
Must be my legs, long, silky, soft, they're towering.
Wondering, wishful, dreaming heart,
Listening, aching to be a part.
Silhouettes of pleasures, unspoken, yet known.
Caress me, Kiss me, enveloping my torrid zone.
Were my curves racing up and down your street?
By chance,
Oh my,
Yes,
Finally, we meet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem