After the party laughter,
Her lips are still red
As she walks beneath
The soft glow of moonlight.
Lasciviously, she smiles at me
Knowing I already adore her
Even more than my wounded eyes
Could ever reveal
Gazing upon her
Like a pious monk
Upon a sacred icon.
Her thin summer dress
Tenderly breaks my heart,
But this is the type of suffering
In which I desire to linger.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thin-summer-dress/
