The little black chiffon

Designed by a maiden
of Wines
sent away
to India
where slaves of silk
in Bombay
sew up and re-create
form and desire
a black chiffon skirt
that just lights my fire
braided with soul
a shadow of goth
as the gypsy’s extol
an incredible moth
drawn by the flame
sucked in by the light
a great celebration
how can he fight
when the Moon Goddess beckons
and fluidly she
writhes and gyrates
with such synastry
a beautiful figure
an awesome display
fleet of foot
so put
in one special way
she twirls
and its heaven
a painting, surreal
a gorgeous Moon Goddess
she is, she’s so real
I’m gripped with her passion
lost in her smile
sold on her sensuous lips
all the while
its black, like the night
its mirrors, like stars
that shine from the heavens
from Venus or Mars
a vast affirmation
which silently sends
me into a whirl
that now never ends