Time For Softness

I like women's breasts, Just the thought takes my breath. To see them bouncing and free Looks beautiful to me. Why did they have to cover them up. It's an accusation and an affront. Because I like women's tops I'm made to feel corrupt. I'd like for a moment to be Back in the eighteenth century Sailing into Tahiti, To see their raw beauty Running topless and free, Or revisiting the sixties With its uninhibited nudity. I felt like I was their brother, Whom they didn't need to cover Their femininity from. It's needless to fuss and worry About toplessness encouraging promiscuity. It's frustration and tension that make us ravenous. While violence is softly quelled by toplessness. Wouldn't it be nice for the children to see The feminine gender, part of humanity, With men and women living free Without the incessant quarreling? Exposure of women's breasts may be a potion That lowers the level of malaggression. There is nothing as soothing as the rhythm Of a woman's jiggling bosom. Our world is so hard, sleek, and straight Projecting missiles, high rises, and the barrel of a tank. Maybe it's time for the softness of our mother To be allowed to be uncovered. Lazy Afternoon A Vow To My Heart Rooted In My Heart The Way I Was Back to the main page