Lucia shakes her hair of raven hue;
Those silky Tuscan tresses that the sun adores.
They dance about her shoulders in the breeze
And revel in her honey scented way.
Each step she takes adorns the view
And every gesture lends her charm to all.
Her touch is living flame, her winsome eyes beguile,
As supple shoulders catch the morning light.
She speaks and birds slip from their shady boughs
To follow all her joyous path and hear.
Each day I see her grace the pebbled shore,
Where, with glistening skin and shaded eyes, she rests
And every night, upon the crowded floor,
She dances with luscious lips and swaying hips and breasts.
