She softly paints her lips with the edge of her lipstick
She does it with a gentle care as if she's painting Picasso
Her hair is tied up in a bun
I want to graze my hands over her soft shoulders
I would do it like a gardener who is handling his precious roses
Its the first day of spring- her breast are ripe and plumped
Her skin is smooth and silky like oil
Her gaze is both intense and mysterious
I can almost hear her breathing
The hairs on her arms rise as if they notice me
Her heart is beating ever so gently
Like a peaceful drum tuned into ecstasy
