Do you get the picture?
I know that it sounds rather absurd.
But why am I telling you all these things?
I'm working, painting a picture of words,
In parts of your mind, a visual rings.
It's like the song that a morning dove sings.
Or the light of a flickering candle.
To my eye, soft glowing rays it would bring.
Above fireplace, poised upon mantle.
In dimly lit room, I want a sample.
As I am taking off all of your clothes.
Your hands upon me, so soft and gentle.
Firmly pulling you in, striking a pose.
I get caught up in pictures I'm painting.
Come to the end, did words have you fainting?