La belle dame

She stands at the window,
with flawless skin
and a smooth feminine curve.
She leans over the plate,
to show off the elegance,
while the snacks is being served.


The goddess of beauty
The red hot wire,
Her motion of body
seems a silver bullet fired.
The curl on the side locks
draw an entangling attention.
She is The women,
she is The one.


Saucy as she is,
She looked at me once
and turned hostile,
She warms me up,
with one sweet smile.


Her eyes, filled with mystery,
Her eyes, filled with passion,
I wish she once glanced at me,
epitome of beauty, a perfection.


When in the wind I call her name,
Her breath smells of earth,
The naval, a salty silent wave,
Like the breeze, the curly hairdo's worth,
Lips sparkle as melting ice.
The Nightingale quietened
For it heard her speak
with the sugar sweet voice.


My eyes twinkle
when I glance at her,
She steals the show at the space.
I swear this by her Bosom,
that lie eager to surface.

She's a bottle of old red wine.
O' Hark, she could be mine.