She spritzes her honeydew perfume from head to toe,
even a dropp on her ankles.
I dare not ask why.
Each strand of golden hair shimmers,
flowing in what seems an effortless arrow
down towards the small of her back.
Her eyes are smoldering puddles of blue
amidst clouds of smokey black coal.
And she, armed with much bait and tackle,
sets out for another late night fishing trip,
casting nets and lines in hopes for a bite.
Great poem, although at the end of her efforts I wonder if she'll find she landed a trophy fish or merely reeled in a night crawler.. -chuck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem well-caught, ok, I just couldn't resist that one, but the imagery and picture that this poem paints is lovely Thankyou Love duncan X