she stands motionless
creamy skin
soft with a candle lite glow
hair like corn silk
her nude body stands so very still
her nipples erected from the cold
her stoumack flat with a lil button that looks drawn on
so perfect she looks
you take your pencil
begin to draw
your out line of her is soft
her angel like features
lips soft plush pink
like that of a new blossemed pink rose
eyes wide brown and still
sorrow filled eyes
so young
barely an aged line on her face
her contours of her hips
arms, shoulders
you study her
she is still
not of marble
standing so still
barely a deep breath
i clutch my pencil,
drawing her in lust
she is perfection
her breast
are simple
not of grand size
sleek and small
her goddess like features
im intrance,
in envey
i try to find a flaw of her
i cant
no words pare from her mouth
shes as of stone,
but life of breath
she doth have
she with beauty
does she have a mind
would i find her flaw in there
i draw this beauty
steady my pencil sketches
my ego is turned on
yet of anger i feel
as this perfect creature
stands so still
wanting to be her
knowing
i am not
knowing my hands show age,
i to not of old
yet the life i have led
would sugest other wise
i crumble of shame
of old i have done
my eyes
fill with water
salt falls to my lipps
i draw on,
shadeing her in like a black and white
photoagraph
when finished i put the pencil down,
i look at her
nod my head
and close the door
i never look behind me
i do not see her as any thing
just a muse
i captured her timeless beauty
forever haunting
forever young
my drawing on a peice of paper
