Sophia is the softest silk I can see
Anywhere on land or even at sea
With hair that makes the moulded mass
And are more than the matter on Mars
And are more than the matter on Mars
The lips she licks in loose
The legs of luck without a louse
With waist that wiggles and sways
From south walk and to the side ways.
When talking, she tames my toss
From my top, tip and to the toes
She is the yolk of a young flower
Or a diamond in a disk of drawer
She suffices the seat of my soul
She suffices the seat of my soul
And heals my heart without a haul
With beauty which is not so petty
But better than beats of a witty
The pupils she dilates in delight
Under brighter brows without plight.
