No love is as overwhelming and as pristine,
As the maiden love of a lass, say of sixteen.
When, like closed petals of a bud she begins to unfold
Herself, blossoming into a fragrant rose or marigold.
She seeks a hand to hold and wants hers as well be held,
In secluded privacy, from the outside world as if shelled.
She wants to love and be loved, to touch and be touched,
Promises never to leave the hand that she fondly clutched.
Standing on the crossroads of childhood and puberty,
She seeks a soul mate, not one who is always flirty.
She feels lonely at ...
She knows what he likes the most her body about,
Her full blossomed beauty that makes her so proud.
Indeed they are natural, bursting, bold and beautiful,
Defying gravity, fascinating, inviting and youthful.
She knows what he likes to do when he is with her
Praise her beauty, cuddle her and make her purr.
Nibble here and there, up and down, just anywhere,
Hum and hover, sing like a bee in search of nectar.