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The Pixie

We met in a wood,my wood ,  
my wood I share with an old man.  
She was of the pixies,sparse dressed  
long black hair,white thighs free of hair  
clear eyes,dazzling smile,soft lips that  
bid me kiss as I kneel to worship the    
proffered hall set down from mount Olympus  
Why me this gift its sacred oils and scents  
tempting the bee to suck  ...  ... and me.    
I wish to enter,press my case careful of  
her wishes Does she wish me to invade ?  
Open secrets,deep within her form ?  
Dark, warm and welcome bathed in nectar  
join with them,alchemy distilled by gods  
to share on earth,what no poem can recite.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published
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