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Tender Was His Tale

As if she were his very own poetry did he marvel - for there was a story he wished unfold. Eager was his tongue; the very pen by which he wrote upon every destination of pleasure . Contingently he wished to tell In every valley and over each tender peak; fervered were his musings then and there transcribed. Along the elongated highway to her breasts, ever so impetuously did he travel. Tender was his tale; line after line did he worship; his minds every enshrined thought did he mark. Conducively did his tongue trail; enslaved to their story was he. Deep from within his muse, did sweet love drip and pour - the ink in which she wrote the sweetest of endings. Successful was he as was his story to be told.


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Written by PandoraUnleashed
Published | Edited 27th Jan 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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