Winter’s Draw (Hour 22)

Her hand ran smooth across the polished table surface,
Turning to hide her face from a direct assault of the camera.

She laughingly tosses her head over her left shoulder,
showing us the elegant profile of her figure,
Draped in flowing folds of ebony.

The sharp cut of her cheeks and nose
Hint of an underlying royalty,
The darkness of the room illuminated by the exposure of her flesh,
Projecting the pale cream of her skin,
crowned in red,
she parts the moment with all the grace of an actress.

Her frail portrait generating an unspoken allure
to the soft skin about her neck and chest,
Her bosom delightfully clear like a frozen pond’s winter surface.

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