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My eyes have seen beauty,
so glorious and true,
Flowers and their petals
Red, pink, orange, blue,
I’ve seen these colors paint the sky
The artist’s brush so free,
An abstract work of brilliance
For who could disagree.
This palette doesn’t shy away,
No bias will you find
From stones to leaves to rainy days
And wings of every kind,
Lo, there is another,
more than glorious, you see
No red or pink, orange or blue
Can match its reverie.
It’s made of bone and flesh and blood,
Its structure is divine,
The softness of her lovely curves.
Her posture so refined.
That silken hair that shines like gold,
The flawless skin so fair,
A face so well appointed,
She’s an angel, you would swear.
And on that face her eyes behold
The truth within I see,
Your soul is mine and mine is yours
Throughout eternity.
I cannot wait to have her in my arms again. It is maddening, this wanting that digs at my gut, harder and harder with each passing day. I dreamt of her again last night, her hands tied with white silk, her creamy arse cheek bright red from my attention, her begging for more. I’ve obsessed about how well she took to that kind of play, how she trusted me to show her the pleasure in pain, how much she truly enjoyed it, and how hard it made her release. My cock swells from the images in my mind, awakening the throbbing ache that has followed me for months. I rest my hand on its length and gently squeeze. I will not take myself in hand again this close to home; I want my wife.
I wonder at my fierce attraction to her and the unusual connection I detected from the first moment she was near. I know now, through the help of Nanna’s clairvoyance, that we were meant to be together. Yet, even without that knowledge, it is clear through a simple touch or gentle kiss.
