| Sleep My Beauty, Sleep As she lay upon the sofa, her long auburn hair hung like a waterfall. Cascading down over the arm to end in pools of brilliant awe. Her jeans and baggy sweater didn't deter from her beauty. I stood and gazed in wonder as if it were my duty. This no ordinary woman, decked in splendor. But a marvel to be admired from shore to shore. Her hushed breath whispered the soft murmers of my delight. Soft velvet lips my feathered touch brought much joy inside. A jewlers pride could not have captured the radiance of her skin. It glowed in the amber sunset stretching across the den. The turned corners of her mouth lent leprechaunic laughter. Angelic eyelashes shadowed her cheeks like silkened hair. I took the coloured spread and draped her in native comfort. The maiden now nestled in warmth after the days hunt. This body I wished not to cover as a monument for all to see. Her smile appeared in more radiance as her dreaming seemed to please. I knelt and lightly kissed her lips, not wanting to awaken. The sweet flavor stunned me, this breath of this maiden. I turned and passed a mirror, my reflection didn't show. For I was not there but in her dreams, and then I had to go. The Masked Writer <-.-> awwww, sigh (C) 2001 T Lovett |