The Girl in the Black Brassiere

The girl
in the
black
brassiere

(Windows,
Designed to let in air and light
Sometimes let out visions rare.)



A vision dark and tall
The wine of eighteen springs in her blood
Past the rainbow of girlhood and not a woman yet
A violet expectant on the threshold of bloom.

Resplendent in front of the dresser was she
The mirror witness to a sensuous charm
Or limpid eye and winsome smile
Trim of waist - of supple arm
Sleek of haunch and in shoulder round
Midnight silk-skeins atop her head she wound
Her breasts full, heavyripe, up and forward strained
Captive, with but a flimsy reason restrained
Her belly, mahogany canvas of droplet runnels mad
And below, as she arches on her toes
Eros swell from the mount of Venus flows
Furred rich, heavy, shiny jet,
Perhaps by a lover unseen, untouched yet
The silent lips an invitation hold
Youthful, assertive, eager, bold .

All this wealth of allure she surveyed
As gently on her toes she swayed
Her eyes, more luminous they grew
As smiles to the mirror she threw
Fingers, nimble butterflies, here and there
On her body alighted everywhere
A hand to her thighs found its way
Atop the rise it held its sway
And then, perhaps with some long practiced art
The pouting peach-lips of her cunt she did part
A knowing, intimate, simple, caress
In and in did her hand she gently press
And then up she raised her arms
Denuding anew her vibrant charms
And in joyous abandon, free
In the mirror she kissed the image she did see.

There wasn't a friend this beauteous sight to share with me.