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Ode to the Softness of Her Breasts
The softness of her breasts, a treasure,
A pair of hills that grace her form divine,
Their gentle curves bring peace beyond all measure,
A beauty that could make a man repine.
How fair and pure they are, like virgin snow,
With each touch, a symphony of delight,
A sanctuary where a man might go,
To find solace from the world's bitter plight.
The heavens envy such a wondrous sight,
And nature's creatures pause in hushed delight,
To witness this most exquisite of forms,
And bask in its warm, heavenly light.
The softness of her breasts, a thing of grace,
A wonder that no mortal can replace.
A pair of hills that grace her form divine,
Their gentle curves bring peace beyond all measure,
A beauty that could make a man repine.
How fair and pure they are, like virgin snow,
With each touch, a symphony of delight,
A sanctuary where a man might go,
To find solace from the world's bitter plight.
The heavens envy such a wondrous sight,
And nature's creatures pause in hushed delight,
To witness this most exquisite of forms,
And bask in its warm, heavenly light.
The softness of her breasts, a thing of grace,
A wonder that no mortal can replace.
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