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Rated: E · Poetry · Adult · #2174619
A chance encounter with a woman who reminded me of Jean Harlow.
Lost in my soul, shine like Jean Harlow.
Longing days still await near bays, an embracing touch I’d love so much.
Soft caress, clothes a mess, lofty breezes blow this way, watching the trees, the leaves they sway.
I see this day, I see it clear, I still hold you close, I wish I was near.
Lady Ms. Margo, lost in my soul, shine like Jean Harlow.
There were your eyes, in my night skies, into them eyes, I heard no more lies.
Hair through my fingers lengthy and soft, walk with me up to my loft.
It will be there where you will imagine, Queen of the night, you are my woman.
Blinded by thoughts of you and your graces, a guiding light stirs me through mazes.
Lady Ms. Margo, lost in my soul, shine like Jean Harlow.
© Copyright 2018 Don De La Don (ianmaldonado at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2174619