SOFT

 Soft rays and delicate winds press luxuriantly against my face.

Chilled sprays and strange butterflies dash about with unusual pace.

Sobered up by invigorating November fragrances

Craving, I loosen up her dress and play about with her rope-like hair.

All my life and without regrets, shame or care,

On a noon pillow puffed with cotton or air

I may indulge and grow tipsy at my leisure!

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