Its a Saturday night,
And somewhere theres a sweet lady,
Reading a sonnet,
Something familiar and exotic,
That will kiss her soul deeply and warm,

The moon is a crescent one,
And shes in her evening robe,
In her loft,
Warm and tender,
Within the candleglow,
Her hair is golden,
as the moon is luminous,
Her legs waxen as a shore,
Shes so sensuous,
she reads sonnets in her stilletos,

Theres another sweet lady,
Reading a sonnet,
Something exotic and moonkissed,
That will exquisitely caress,
her rhythms and being,
Shes is brunnette and sultry,
In her evening dress,
It shimmers with her,
With the waves from her veranda,
Her brows are enchanting,
as lavendar sunset wings,
Her hips are honey,
And graceful as a ballerinas,
Shes so sweetly stunning,
She reads sonnets to the sunflowers,
Lillies, and irises in her vase,
With a rose bun in her fine sleek hair,

After so much dancing and swaying,
There are some lovely sweet ladies,
Within a sensuous stillness,
Loosening robes and cares,
Unwinding,
reading a sonnet by candle and moonlight,
This one is for them,
Although its not fourteen lines,
Its written with a familiar, moonkissed,
and exotic love,
Like many sonnets it kinda wrote itself,
With that passionate kiss, a hymn of love,
And your Beauty and love,
is,
the rhyming couplet
Reynaldo Casison