The poet in me has been stirred to write in poetry
the great feelings of ecstasy when my lovely Muse I see.

Such idealised womanhood portrayed as a goddess,
dressed as only a woman could and festooned in loveliness.
Draped in grace and grandeur, with beauty everlasting,
her charming shape and splendour, all Muses surpassing.

He stood there in the presence of such divinity
seduced by the very essence of her femininity.
Mesmerised by her loveliness, his soul had no defence.
He was smitten by her comeliness and her magnificence.

Her body’s’ curvaceous design, so wonderful and sublime,
its contours and outlines so fine, all radiant and divine.
Confronted by beauty such as this he just could not resist,
and succumbed to her world of bliss; surrendering to loves kiss.