Artistic Nude Photography

O fairest wisp, where beauty’s breath doth sigh,
Thy form a whispered song in moonlit air.
So light, so fleet, as if thou wert the sky,
A dream half-seen, too delicate to bear.

Thy frame, a slender quill in poet’s hand,
Doth trace the softest lines of nature’s grace.
No marble carved, nor artist’s skill command
Could match the fleeting wonder of thy face.

Thy limbs like willow boughs do bend and sway,
Yet never break, for strength in thee is spun.
The dawn itself must pause upon its way,
To touch thy skin, as pale as woven sun.

Thy fingers dance as autumn leaves in flight,
So light they seem to scarcely graze the air.
Thy step, a phantom drifting through the night,
So soft, the earth forgets thy presence there.

Thy collar, curved as if by sculptor’s will,
A tender slope where light and shadow play.
Thy voice, a lark’s, doth hush the world to still,
And bids all sorrowed hearts to melt away.

Thine eyes, twin wells where twilight dares to gleam,
Reflect the stars that fall in envy’s wake.
Thy lips, a rose upon a silver stream,
So small, yet wrought to cause the world to quake.

O slender sprite, a vision, swift and rare,
The wind itself must slow to touch thy hair.