Isis 2007

Palace Hall

Let us walk, my king, through
Palace halls, with my hand in
Yours. Warmth. Warmer.
I bring your hand to my lips
with a flutter kiss. Look in my
Eyes.

Let us walk to the garden, then.
Dismiss the servants.
The peaches are ripe now, my
King. Sit. I will bring one to
Your lips
As your body moves into mine.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, June 4, 2007
Poem Edited: Monday, March 7, 2011

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Maya Angelou

Phenomenal Woman



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