Wraith028
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And grow freely in the terrible games of it;
Guess if her heart harbors a dark flame
In the humid mists that float in her eyes;
Explore its magnificent forms to my liking;
Crawl on the slope of her huge knees,
And sometimes, in summer, when the suns are unhealthy,
Lax, they make her lie across the countryside,
Sleeping carefree in the shadow of her breasts,
Like a placid village at the foot of a mountain.
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The wind will quickly blow away,
Burns short summer
Autumn rain will flood the ashes.