She had ...
She had lips like rose petals, falling softly into
mine.
She had eyes like liquid diamonds, melting into
mine.
She had breasts soft as moonbeams, merging with
mine.
She was ethereal, but she was not mine.
She was only as I imagine, not as I find ...
… not
yours, not mine.
Copyright 1997
© Ronald W. Hull
9/23/92