She wears flowing white cloth that covers like snow,
made everything in the world look clean.
Her blood is like fine wine that came of age
and bouquet's, without vinegaring.
Everything she ever wanted never asked for never got
was never too hard for her to grip.
I can see she wants to ask but hasn't got the courage to
ignite the words from her lips.
The air is thick like a snow drift outside my window.
Everything the white cloth covered
has frustrated and suffocated her with maturity.
She is putting on airs, a moment here, a moment there,
colored hair returns fall into spring.
Everything she ever wanted never asked for never got
was never too hard for her to grip.
I can see she wants to ask but hasn't gotten the courage to
ignite the words from her lips.
The air is thick like a storm outside my window.
It stains the white cloth with colors.
She response like thunder, rolling under
and closes the distance between us.
She is pulsating intoxicated in an exchange of bodily fluids.
The air clears and reveals our naked fashion.
Reveling in feelings of her long lost passions
embracing the world inside my window.
It's everything she wanted to feel uncovered.