Her large wreath,
Delicately crafted,
centered,
Rests firmly on her head.
Her curls bound tightly,
Brushed back,
Tied in a bun
So that her face is exposed,
To the warm sun.
She gazes out,
Through her almond-shaped eyes.
Her lips as thin as rose petals,
Are closed shut.
Stretching her long body on the bed,
She fills the space,
She takes pride in her appearance.
Long legs,
Perky breasts,
Nipples protruding.
Soft skin,
Full hips,
Round thighs,
The look of vanity,
on her face
Can be seen from far and wide.
The weight of her head,
Rests on her right arm
So that she can support herself.
A pearl bracelet,
Hangs from her thin wrists,
It is her favorite accessory.
Two satin pillows,
Rest behind her,
Plump but small,
Stacked one on top of the other,
Touch her porcelain-like skin.
Her other hand,
Holds a small red apple.
She amuses herself.
She hasn’t decided yet,
If it is time to eat,
The sweet delicacy.
So she continues,
To rest it in the palm of her hand.
The silky cloth,
Covers her fleshy legs.
The cloth intangles her body,
Hugging her tightly.
The edges of the cloth,
Clutching the mattress of the bed.
The extravagant structure,
That she rests on,
Proudly holds her body,
Supporting her beautiful frame.
The bed,
Is adorned in gold details,
Gold flowers,
Gold drapes,
And gold feet.
In her private chambers,
It is only fitting,
For a woman so beautiful,
To be reclining on such a magnificent bed.
(Paolina Borghese, Antonio Canova 06.05.2019).
No comments:
Post a Comment