The orange horizon has but briefly glowed, <br />And Dice dons her jacket, her only clothes, <br />And begins her departure for her nearby abode. <br />Her nightly motive, only the Creator knows. <br /> <br /> <br />Because of her spots and freckles everywhere, <br />Dice, I call her, and nothing more. <br />Nightly, her footsteps are on my stair. <br />She’s in no more than a jacket, at my door. <br /> <br /> <br />She poses and pokes her nakedness, <br />As if it was her own invention. <br />And we spend the night in silent bliss, <br />For which I give more than honorable mention. <br /> <br /> <br />Her delicate figure gleams like the moon. <br />And in the twilight, erotic display, <br />As quaint as a familiar tune, <br />Embellishes my evenings in this way. <br /> <br /> <br />Daybreak always seems too near, <br />For it means her parting, my dear Dice. <br />So I thank the Creator that she is here, <br />Dashing the night’s darkness with sugar and spice.<br /><br />Albert Price<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/naked-dice/
