To My Shy Mistress

If we had enough of the world's time, your shyness lady is no crime, we would sit down, cuddle a little bit and take ages kissing ourselves. To walk and pass our long love's day though by the Bahamas Island and I by the tide of Humber, I would complain: I can love you five years before the flood; and you should if you please, refuse till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love for you should grow vaster than the empires of UK, the Soviet of Russia and USA. And still my shy mistress, one hundred years should go to praise thine eyes and forehead gaze, two hundred to adore each breast, thirty thousand to the rest. An age at least to every part. For lady you deserve this state of praise.

But at my back I hear time running against us and there before us lie threats of death. Your beauty shall no more be found. Then worms shall try our long preserved virginity and your romantic honour turned to dust and into ashes all my lust. Now while our youthful skin blossoms like the morning dew of a summer holiday, and while your willing soul transpires at every pore with instant fires of tender youthfulness. Let us roll all our strength and all our sweetness up into one ball of love and bliss, where our bodies shall bombard each other in the silly sexy dances of our waists. Let us make love endlessly under our romantic bed and enjoy the sweet pleasures of our virginities.

By Bishop Love

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