Martas poems for Saturday, September 4, 2010

By Sinome - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Saturday, September 4, 2010

He was an artist

He was an artist Green as the fresh born grasses in the meadow were his eyes as they shone with the brilliance of a thousand suns When he looked at you, you felt nothing else existed but his glance and the world was yours if he said to you: "Bonne chance!" His smile had the power to seduce and enchant, White and perfect teeth contrasted with the caramel shade of h is skin and somehow, without a word, he could invite stranger's lips to smile back at him. He walked tall and erect... always looking... Sign in to see full entry.

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