A Lady's Miscellany

Atop my head, sir, is my hair

worn loose or coiffed to suit the

time of day or the company I keep

--luxurious, is it not? And it will

take a tug or two should

passion demand it.

My eyes, sir, are for seeing and for

telling an intuitive soul what

roils within my otherwise

hidden heart—they are green,

are they not? and they are not averse to perusing a

handsome form and all its attributes.

My mouth, sir, is for eating and drinking and

smiling (for you do not want to see the

purse of my unhappy lips, tighter than

any Exchequer) –are those lips

red, sir? and plump and unafraid to be

dyed white by a man’s exuberance.

These arms, sir, can carry and clasp and

these hands—are they not delicate and

unadorned?—can caress, make the

soft hard and hard

soft again. Are they not

extraordinary hands, sir?

These, sir, are my breasts: they

feed children and, when not tender,

enjoy the attention of those who

please to play the child’s role

--bounteous, are they not? and

bounty should be shared.

Behind this well-wooded copse, sir, is

my vagina, from which by nature’s whimsy

men go in and babies come out

--luxuriant, is it not? When it purrs it

answers to puss but harsher names have

sometimes not displeased.

A neglected path, sir, meanders to

my anus, designed to void my waste but,

as all you well-brought-up young men seem to know,

curiously amenable to insertion

--is it not dark and comely when I

bend for you like this?

These sites of interest, sir, sit upon legs of

surprising strength for one

so slender, ending in feet capable of

spurring the most sturdy of steeds to

superhuman speed, when speed

spurs spending.

Is my miscellany a pleasure, sir, or too

complicated to comprehend? Is it just my

sturdy thighs you wish to ride? Or

can you find your way into the

sturdy heart that makes all these parts,

all these interwoven parts,

work as one?