Her Touch Was Shyly-Light
Full of Purity, In His Sight
Her Touch Was Soft in Timidity
Almost Opposed To His Temerity
Almost As If She Were Afraid To Lay
Naked and Exposed, as Helpless-Prey
Untouched and Untutored In Torrid-Ways
His Eyes, Seemed To Say … It’s Ok …
So, The Touch of The Virgin, Did Fall
Her Fingertips, Fragile and Small
Upon Broad Shoulders and Over All
Gaining-Ground, with Each, Moist-Kiss-Call
… On His Lips, His Eyes, All Over His Face
From Toes, To Thighs, and Back Up, To Waist
Around His Torso, Sent Shivers Up His Back
Covered Every Inch, of His Manly-Track …
In An Instant … It Was All Over
Beneath Blanket, She Was Now … Lover
By Honeyed-Moon, They Did Glisten and Glow
After The First Touch of... Virgin Snow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That was beautiful and passionate. Yet it still kept its innocence.