I am still at a loss for words as to how you’ve caused me such wonder
In such a little spell;
Maybe your feminine magic has been weaved so well,
That I fall into your arms and could indefinitely dwell;
Nestled in your wholesome bosom listening to the rhythm in your chest,
All day I could rest this way until the sun sets in the west, at our bodies behest.
Your chestnut curls adorn the bed and whorl the worries from my head;
There is a bond in fondness
And all I know is I am bloody fond of you.
© Jack Nugent