There is something when I am alone
walking about the trees in the fall thinking of you,
when I am near you the color of it all your red lips and your white hot flesh
your red hair and red fingernail tips.
Blood generates pulsing so true, whenever I get near or thoughts of you.
Times which I wonder, next to talk to you,
the immobility of itinery to make you near. Surely you will read this,
if I am careful of flare;
most of all I remember red marks of beauty a freckle and hair.
Voluptuous large bosoms challenge
me to dare; nearly erect,
I notice your glare.
Then I recall the length of your skirt can bring me around to blush and to flirt.
I have incredible desire with your legs not affar, but spread wildly apart, when to stand to be admired.
Throbbing sensations I get and recall of the moment you gave me exposing nearly all.
It is such a wonderful approach when offerred at large;
a partially palmed bottom while on you I dream and excitedly pound conventionally speaking on thoughts of it all.
Simply lift your glasses above and expose your eyes as an husband would know separating your hair with the stem, as the wind may do reminds me again
is where I had hoped for my hands to begin. Not yet may blue stockings stay further in delight, through the quiet moments of my dreams at night; now you know only you can do the magic color of autumn too.