The Bus Driver
The prettiest thing I’ve seen today
Is often there a rare display
The shinning star in her constellation
That moves about insighting sensation
Like music to the ears
A treasure to the eyes
What the tongue calls sweet
A smile labeled compleat
Desire driven by the shape of the eyes
The hour glass figure is no surprise
Cheeks with dimples that paralyze
Hair tamed by curls supplied
The length of which says satisfied
How precious this feeling of being hugged
With eyes embracing the pinnacle of love
The momentary destination
Of heaven from above
The meaning of pleasure
Satisfaction without measure
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