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



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