Lucia shakes her hair of raven hue;
Those silky Tuscan tresses that the sun adores. They dance about her shoulders in the breeze And revel in her honey scented way. Each step she takes adorns the view And every gesture lends her charm to all. Her touch is living flame, her winsome eyes beguile, As supple shoulders catch the morning light. Each day I see her grace the pebbled shore, Where, with glistening skin and shaded eyes, she rests And every night upon the crowded floor, She dances with luscious lips and swaying hips and breasts.
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