Siren of the Soul

There is fruit I have not tasted
Of Pink tawny thighs
And peach-fuzz firmness
Heavy, round quivering mound
The delicate petals of her flower

My deepest dark desires
Have laid buried deep asleep
Queer thoughts and fantasies
But a sweet discovery
In the uncovering of me

Inch by inch new jewels lay naked
Glistening gold and sparkling gems
An old crown long forgotten
A broken mirror to be pasted

Revealing my constant muse
Sweet siren of the soul
She sings from cold caverns deep
And wakens me from my sleep

Her hair is golden rain
With eyes of ocean pain
Her skin the smooth pale of shale
And lips like red wet satin bow

What is inside I wonder?
To untie to shivering delight
To delight in her wonder.