Placing it ever so gently upon the bed
With cat like movements she walks
Sitting upon a director's chair she prepares
Crossing of legs, glancing over her shoulder
Giving me that smile, nearly naked lips
Gleaming, lustrous and glossy
Morphing before me she turns
Eyes, like green diamonds, such brilliance
Bringing her hand slowly to dress each one
Smokey they become, seducing me
Lashes growing longer as she strokes them
Heat rises in me watching the liquid movement
Graciously she brushes the back of her hand
Against my trembling knee, pleading with her eyes
Voice like a soft rain, she asks
Do you like the way I look
I reply with honest, raw emotion
There's something in the way you move
Tornado winds tearing at my thoughts
Are you ready, I ask softly
Bronze trophy winner
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