In a chamber suffused with emotion
By the light of innumerable dawns,
In a house betwixt forests and ocean,
Where the briar rose bristles with thorns;
There hangs her portrait in splendour,
In mystic silence, forsaken, unknown,
In lines both violent and tender
And colours of thunderous tone.
Her eyes bespeak wisdom and knowing,
Her face; enigmatic and ever serene
With tresses luxuriant, flowing
To realms of delight yet unseen.
She is lissome of line, at times seeming
To move with the heart of the storm.
In turn, she seems tranquilly dreaming;
Creating visions of exquisite form.
Her goddess soul demands adoration,
She is a daughter of tempest and night,
Of desire - the last incarnation,
A creature of ethereal light.
Ceaseless and boundless her passion;
Kindler of unquenchable fire,
Nude in the fearless old fashion,
Wellspring of lust and desire!
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-poems/her-portrait.aspx">Her Portrait</a>