A dream, a vision is my love, a goddess come to mortal lands,
A perfect creature, pure, divine; no fault or blemish to be found
Upon her face, her arms and legs; upon her hair, her feet, her hands:
From topmost crown of perfect head to where she treads upon the ground.
Her every step is flawless grace, her every word with wisdom filled;
Her heart is pure and sweet and kind, no hint of anger anywhere;
Sorrow comes not where she is: there, only tears of joy are spilled.
Bring fabled Helen and compare, and Helen weeps and does despair.
Well... maybe not quite.
For now and then she drops something, or gives voice to a word unkind;
She may forget a plan we made, or lose one of my treasured books,
Or say she doesn't want to talk about the day she's had, or find
Out how my day was, or help me as the dinner cooks.
But somehow I must yet confess, those things we "imperfection" call
Make her a more desirable mate than any Goddess I could dream
Might visit me upon some night: no Amazon nor siren tall
Compare to she whose spirit melds with mine as brooks into a stream.
I love her so, and many are the different ways that love may be
Displayed and shared by mortals who do not in realms ethereal
Cavort, but live in bodies of firm flesh--and such is hers that she
Delights me with her presence: I'll not spurn the world material!
For there are places on her skin where I can touch and pleasure give
And so receive in equal part delights of sensuality,
Reminding me that we are not pure spirit, that indeed we live
In bodies that sensations feel, from sleep to pure carnality.
Nor do I shrink from giving voice to my desire for her form!
No, every inch of her fair skin, each curve and crevice, scent and taste
Makes me desire to stroke and lick till cries of ecstasy are torn
From her, while I enjoy caressing her sweet flushing face.
I'll teach myself of all her skin; does she enjoy when I do this?
I'll feel her warmth envelop me; we'll strain ourselves together tight,
And in our loving, heated, frenzied, hard and soft wet passion...kiss
And pause, and slowly start to move again till, rising as the bonfire bright,
Comes the height of pleasure that I'm privileged to share with she
I love, whose love makes more the pleasure we together wrought and built:
Our writhing selves, all intertwined and slithering in lusty glee
And touching, straining, thrusting, building peak on peak on peak until
Like lightning-stroke or crashing wave there comes that little-death so sweet
We lose the world and only have each other, then exhausted fall
To lie commingled, breathing hard, with hearts that still do wildly beat.
And in that afterglow I think "She is a goddess after all..."