To adore your translucent and
Almost rectangular lid
Is to profess love
For Femininity herself.
Your clear yellow contents
Are almost a bubble bath
On my lined wrist.
The air bubble
Within you wobbles -
Then stays still -
Then wobbles once more.
Your violet lid tries to
Hide your one spying eye.
It looks not at me -
Or at my flower blanket -
But at Femininity.
She smiles back.
I try to do the same.
I really like it, but, I'm not sure what the perfume bottle is a metaphor for. I'd love to know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey really nice you wrote about something new love it and you have wild imagination: D