Parisian girl
Rattle shake, in her feet crawling like a tail.
O f a princess squalor, that fire made to burn.
Tell me the story o mon amour,
Of this Parisian girl.
She was sit outside the cafe, with her naked crossed legs.
Her hair, black gold veils, obscure of mysterious where.
The lips like a fortune teller sphere.
Confine her voice, capturing the souls
Like mermaid enchanting sailors' pants.
Her dock breasts I adore.
I watch her, like the stars, million times, like the moon far light.
Where from her eyes, I hide, shy,
Seek my heart, dream my eyes, to make her love me, day and night.
Bonsoir, the cat, on the roofs stretch his fur,
Walking on the thin wall, praising her with cuddling words.
Linen wraps the morning, undone by the passion.
Consume by her caress until the moon shine.
Where the mill is blown by the wind.
The light through the window at midnight consumes.
Passion of a candle, the flame defuses the room.
Of a Parisian night bloom.
poem by Luca Menin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
