Poetry

Yoni

I look over a landscape of smooth white hills
      so soft and silky they give me thrills.
      Into a cleft my gaze does go
      to see a sight that makes my vajra grow.
      Beneath a pretty shrub the color of the sun
      there is a formation like a honey sweet bun.
      Into that soft mysterious place I slide
      and on the wings of ecstasy glide,
      then to emerge refreshed and blessed,
      for of the Goddess gifts I was given the best.
      There is no place as sacred as a yoni fair
      especially that of Elfwoman of the flowing red hair
 

 

 


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