" Her Supple Instrument .."

Foregoing the measure of my Love for her
I approximate the size of the moon
If it cannot beam
As she does,
My measure is ripe
For her Love,
And the enchanted places
On her neck,
Where the smooth
Consideration
Of her supple instrument
Sends music
Through the pulse of me,
And drives my hesitation
Insane.....

So, I drip the honey's
And fragrances
Of Love,
On her waiting
Curiosity,
Which arouses her,
And wriggles free her inhibitions
Affording me,
The unhindered opportunity,
For Love's orgasmic
Ballet.....

Tony Taylor   (Chicago)