soft -stepping gazelle,

in woods turning brown;

lambent eyes and lustrous skin,

she wears a diadem of sorrel keratin.

mottled fingers caress slender hands,

soft like her name,

her lips – and the dulcet tone

when she speaks in a shy,

halting susurration.

soft curve against the teak and timber

of a bench; riparian setting,

for pulchritude clothed in the purple of passion….

…and unclothed by a piercing gaze

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