Angel White

Grant Hope #88

Breathing intently
with a certain begged heaviness in heart
desire is in her pulsing breasts
moving up and down in a cyclic start

Clothed in angelic white wherever skin doth not show
it’s radiance would be glorious and binding if her cavernous desire did not continue to openly grow

Laying on air in pillow’s rest
turning her head to one side
her eyes are in complete arrest
exulting me
telling of her lover’s bliss
while her prim pink lips part in stride

Slowly writhing in anticipation
in trusting advance of the one she thinks of as her king
I cannot fathom what the seven wonders of the world are if the list does not include my queen

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