The Fontenot Rose

During the daylight
She assumes the role of a protector,
Defying the common ideas of the modern world
And stands her post to and keep her watch;
But beyond such a watchful demeanor
The hidden treasures lie in wait
For that lucky recorder to make
That smooth and gentile discovery.

The twist of a trailing loch.
The dark eyes ---a raven's watch ---
As one sits back to witness
Its curving textures that bloom,
When the mind begins to wonder
Of how its passing fragrance
Would be interpreted by the senses.

And when such a rose would bloom
The coiling vines would
Encase long lost emotions
And thus sprout those tender petals ---

...Silk laden entities
That produces the slight electric pulse
When brushed against...

Or perhaps the passing of digits through her hair
Figuring out the perfumed soul
As one tries to up lift her interests
While she lights up rooms and helps create,
The face of pleasure when flooding into
The doorsteps of quaint mirth.

She gathers her flock and lets her babes sleep
While watching them during the night,
And yet --- as the battle angel retires her amour
There are the pale curves and dips
Of a feminine display,
With all of the many exotic features
A watchful eye would love to manifest erotic imagery
As if to catch a brief fantasy in time;
Of sighs –a skipped beat --- the whispers of need,
Or the spring shade that a soft friendship brings
To ears and minds that have but suffered
The back and fourth of the day's reality,

Peel it back --- she wants you to --- slay hesitation!
As shoulder straps sag and depart their ways
Only to present a well kept tenderness,
A creamy set of peaks to satisfy your needs,
With a slender slope
Perfectly defining a course to play...
A smooth seduction that bends and spreads
As the body becomes quite comfortable,
Free of its bonds to arouse your creeping wants
And tenderly coils around your being,
With the sweet thrashing that often comes
When collapsing into that timeless heat
So many are shamelessly addicted to...

Tread lightly ---but do not fear
Her Petals, the light ends of angel feathers
But containing the fury of the gryphon
And the focus of a lady lioness,
Whose thorns encase the virtues
Of an internal swan ---a majestic flow
That tames the loudest fears
And settles many troubles to sleep.