- Erotic Poetry
- A Late Bloomer
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Many summers had come and gone,
Spring flowers had bloomed,
Ripe nectar for consumption
Had dried in her silk garden.
The loveliness of womanhood
Was slowly deminishing
Under a cloud of non use,
Faded desires and self-pleasuring.
Then on a magical night
She met a son of Eros;
He was carrying a purple arrow;
In a hesitant, passionate kiss,
The sparks of lust were
Igniting deep wells of passion
In the garden of Eden,
Old rose petals opened;
At 58 she was a late bloomer
Who made up for lost seasons.
