She kicks her legs Free, to the passing wind. She motions kisses to my direction, Commanding new gusts to be let loose From an opened mouth, for hurled sighs. I have brought myself to this place To view her eyes, for how they sparkle, To view her skin, for how it glows, To replace my old self With a new self. I know nothing Of this woman, As she knows nothing of me. Her kisses have been shared with the ongoing sights From many men's opened gaze. Her hair parts an even way Down the center of her scalp. Her lips are like the blossoms of Spring Pinkish in hue, wet as though with dew. Could I call myself to her arms? In her eyes, The world has a veil That cannot be crowned atop its spherical head The encrusted tiara, that will not wilt. In my eyes, The world is but a shape Away from being a cube. I want, as any man does, to hold the curves.