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Smelling like a rose, glossy thick hair brush upon shoulders,
Wrapped in lily-white morals there I poise a gentle lady.
Accolades, complements, a rhythm upon which my splendid frame
spreads the splendor of the makerís craftsmanship.

Dare to answer me if you can! Which way does life steer?
there it takes a slow but permanent turn.
My springy bosom is loosened, heart frozen, love gone to exile.
Dressing mirrors never saw years pass by
now age escalates the untold beauty into caricature.

Come on my darling! Pollinate the bloom of my love.
I curl up in my verdant bed, sleeping with a wakened heart,
the cold of the night boils my blood, that of morning cause me mania
for a baddy to lay between my breasts

Muzzle me not you wealth and dignity, here is the color of my in most.
Where are passion lips to suck the hidden luscious nectar?
Where are the tender hands to titillate?
Be managing or damaging preventive or primitive,
I wonít relax my hold on Mr. Right
Beauty is a flair for love but itís no hook for it.

By Henry Samuel Mello
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