Colette

To be woman is to seek comfort,

It is like a slow melody in a meadow,

I lie on her,

She consumes me with her arms,

Her smile shines the sky brighter.

The soft silk of her dress and her laugh,

The honey in her eyes,

The mark above her lips,

Her fingers take a walk in mine,

She comes across like freshly baked cake,

She is decadent.

I have watched her for days,

Fell harder with each second the months came by,

I have admired the lines of her neck,

Dreamt of her skin,

Skin on Skin.

I lose sight of the crowd,

She laughed and my eyes traveled,

They settled on her chest the mark above her breast.

If I ever settle down it will be to her,

Her anger, her tears, her laugh, her scent berries and cream, her fingers and nails,

For forever and a day,

I am owned by no other but my Colette.