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A kiss at La Plage St. Pierre
La Plage St. Pierre
I seek the one with the smoldering brown eyes,
Whose beauty is as elegant as a golden sunrise.
She has long, brown tresses that hang like fine silk.
She has soft, supple skin that is creamy as milk.
I see full, pouty lips that ache for a kiss.
I see an hour glass figure that would be hard to miss.
Her body is a violin that is aching to be plucked.
Her bosom is waiting, and wanting to be sucked.
One arm around your waist is all I would need,
One look into your eyes that would allow me to succeed.
In stealing a kiss, at La plage St. Pierre
© 2010 Augustine A. Zavala