My muse is a wicked tune
the sweet lagoon
the crispy is the falling skin
and deep-brown in your eyes a fin
sense swoony sin

The wavy of your body falls
the flair of sleevy muscle calls
and broady toes through towel sock
it gently mocks
oh curls, you flock

And other near is my demise
the mockery of beige-brown spice
that meets my eyes
oh soul-warm cries
longs for enlight