China Blue Librarian

China Blue Librarian  

Soft fire of her tresses  
Glows with heat of creation  
Whose eyes twinkle in starry beatitude  
In blue waves of gentle heat  
She dusts books with burning locks  
That brush the opened pages of Henry Miller  
Whose sensual flames lick his words  
With the smolder of tears born in heaven  
Where her lipstick finds fruition  
By kissing due date cards  
For boys desirous of her strawberries  
Who watch the tender vines of her strands  
With jeans that cannot hide the truth  
Of what is forbidden  
Especially from a sultry librarian  
With her eyes made of china blue glass