Shape

Where shadows play and moonlit airs descend,

Soft curves invite, where yearning thoughts extend;

The silken swell, the bosom’s secret rise,

Awakes desire beneath admiring eyes.

Each contour whispers promise, sweet, profane,

A languor kindled, delicate as pain.

O forms divine, that set the blood aflame,

Ye stir the heart, yet never bear the blame.

-M