Maiden

Doesn’t she see the beauty of her youth in your curves?
The ripening bosom and bulging hips
Stretching out the folds of your silk wrappings
And a cotton weaving over your shoulders

A smooth skin, tender
Long hair, gold,
With a sunset smile,
And a gracious gaze

Of an angel,
By the fountain,
Trapped within your own reflection,
And wishing, you stay, 
Forever, young

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