Sonnet 120

Now let me help you with that stubborn clasp,
Untie your hair and let the auburn fall;
Let not your wanton eyes here have to ask,
As warm embrace does offer up your all;
And let me lay you on red satin down,
And run my fingers cross white heaving breasts;
Now let me whisper sweetly, soft and low,
As your moist hallowed reaches I caress;
And may rose pouting lips have want of mine,
And may my cheek fair gently brush your face;
Your kisses tasting like the finest wine,
Black shadows on the wall our forms do trace.
How sweet forbidden love, my Magdalen,
And when the morning dawns, what of us then?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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