Peaches

A poem about woman

Photo by Deon Black on Unsplash

Her skin
Pale, soft and light
Like the cheeks of a newborn babe

Her breasts, perfect
Drops like peaches
Hanging ready for harvest in Autumn

Her lips, like cherries
Eager to please
Lets out a gentle moan

My hands
Find their way
To the most sacred place

And we are held
In strong arms
As we reach
Ecstasy together

One ivory, one beige
Curled together
Like two onions
That grew side by side
Spooned by nature
In which they reside