sinful desire

these visions pervade the sanctum of my lecherous  
thoughts, so that I must reveal them in the blackest  
ink on the whites page, to quell the storm of temptation...  
 
they emerge in Spring, in diaphanous clothing, to be  
caressed by the warmth of a blossoming summer sun.  
they gambol & dart like faeries, blithe spirits of Shelley's  
poem, but fleshed with the form of a not-quite woman,  
 
these fragile wonders who have breathed the air for just  
over seventeen years, but a span yet from nineteen  
(just legally beyond child-porn.)  
they entice & vandalize me unknowingly...  
 
my desire is to capture one in my butterfly net, take her  
as a nude, nubile nymph, lay her in the bight splendor of  
a clover field, beneath an envious heaven.  
 
I would rest my cheek gently on the softness of her belly,  
where I may inhale the perfume of her mont de venus, so  
near that delicate cleft, unavailable to the slightest touch,  
yet promising the eventual enraptured enfoldment of the  
tempestuous iron rod of the male anatomy...  
 
these visions that occur only in my vilest dreams, lest I am  
shackled & hurled into the desolate dungeon  
 
justifiably.