Pizarro's Gold

Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake. - Thoreau

Her commissioned lips own me.

Her essence is in my blood.

Her rapturous, braided hair is a silken gateway.

Sailing through the still, moonlit waters of my mind like a fine Spanish galleon.

Cerulean eyes wielding power like royal sceptres.

Staring through my heart and into my soul.

Skin smooth like freshly churned butter.

Prized like extra virgin olive oil.

Her capacious, carnal curves guide me.

I am her conquestador.

Truth be told,

I couldn't look away for all of ...

... Pizarro's gold ...

Author's Note

"A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher, may be daunted; but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure love. Who can predict his comings and goings? His business calls him out at all hours, even when doctors sleep." - Thoreau