A STAR CALLED VENUS

A STAR CALLED VENUS

First rays of morning glory,
Bathes the eastern sky.
Fingers of luminosity, illuminating divinity,
Languorously awakening,
Fresh from slumber, tender and warm,
Dreams arrested by lashes, black ravens wings
Resting on petal soft cheeks imprinted
With marks of his pink dawn.
Waterfalls of ebony covers her full form
Arms above her head, raised stretching herself
She rises; Venus, deity of love.
From her foam flecked bath
Long legs taut, feminine power
Rippling beneath skin of creamy white.
Blue veins tracing a
Path from toe to silken thigh.
Breasts firm, peaked over a narrow waist
A gentle swell under
Of heavenly treasures tell.
Slim fingers hold her tresses close
As the wind tries to playfully pierce
The intimately coiled curls from their place.
Kissing the slender column
Holding her perfect face.
Pale arms curve in a single line,
So finely chiseled, made of porcelain.
Celestial, immortal, she steps from the shell
Goddess and woman elegant, sensual.

Sujata

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