Her smell!
That of scented meadows,
Her lips
a lusher,
Her breasts
swelled to perfection
mimicking her behind
Like gay eyed flowers,
Her face transfigures at the set of dusk,
But the flame gone dim.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
