...a telling camera lens...

 

There it was...

The camera lens looking in on me

it saw what i could not see...

the droop of a breast soft, a nipple hid

many an onlooking suitor to bid...

to lick ones lips in anticipation of what the criss-cross was shielding

indulging in a fantasy, wandering what soft caresses would be yielding

if, fingers knew to gently prod and tweak through lacy cloth

the response of nipples hard, a matter to not scoff...

for, such a response of piplike deliciousness can only bring,

an instant response of another sort of hardness, the mind does know to bring to wing

and thus, the camera lens does have an eye for much i cannot see

yet, knows to allow my onlooking suitor to appreciate the delicacy of me.

RB.