The soft genteel tender bliss

The striking chick in orgasmic blue

The caress of her tender lips

Amid serene ecstasy.

Touch of the chorale

On Sunday morn

The magic of ecstasy

In its mystique tender debonair

The Pisces moon a bliss

Tender to esoteric kiss.

Sings the song forecast

Grasp the anonymous grip

Sing the tune of Divine miracles.

Forlorn spreads amid debacles.

Kiss is a bliss of ecstasy.

To the base of knowing thee?
Magic wonders of unsung autumn

Floating amid a desolate canopy.

The genteel caress of mystic time

Sings its last honest chime
Of a ancient cuddle sung in lullaby.

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