::This piece praises feminine power, dedicated to all my siren, mermaid, goddess of serenity.
Perhaps it was her soft skin, the glow of early morning dawn. She is still dripping wet from the rain, not a trace of oil or lotion on her skin, yet it seems that a hand touching her can go on forever, with no hurry and no pause.
Her body tells the story of an old soul, one with the innocence of the youngest sister who kept weaving sweaters of thorn to save her brothers from despair. Her long blond hair falls half messily around her face, barely concealing her shoulders and breasts. She is a siren who is firm on seducing the sailors with her body, her mind, as she smiles half teasingly the sailors feel their blood boil.
They have been sailing for months and it’s been such a long time, so long that they lost count of the markers they put on the inside seam of the tall ship. Yet no one would forget the moment they saw her, lying lazily atop the tiny island full of bedrock, basking in the sun, smiling innocently and not the least worried that her body is completely exposed.
In fact she seems to like it, she likes the reaction it causes in men, as they stare at the pink bud atop the hemisphere of her womanhood, they forget to steer and must pull back with a mighty force as the wind jerks the tall ship backward. She laughs, like a bell that rings through the wild savanna, calling lost sheep to come back to their shepherd.
The sailors remember the legend of sirens, and the warning about her singing. What they didn’t know was the power of her innocence. As she stands in front of these hungry men, nude as a newborn child, they lose all ability and desire to escape. Their eyes are glued to her, not only her breasts but her hair, her hips, and the small dimple next to her full lips. She bits on them lightly, as if completely unaware of her allure to the group of young men, whose youth have already gotten the better part of their rational mind.
Who cares if you will never go home, when the prospect of seeing such angelic face and engaging in devilishly wonderful times seems oh-so simple? She waves, gently inviting the sailors, without making it seem too much like a request, but that only makes the invitation more appealing. She doesn’t need these men, she simply wants to know if they’d mind dropping by for the good time sake, some fun before everything becomes dust. Forget about the past and the future, she draws the circle of life, a story of this moment, stretching the sweetness from eternity and back.
It was only a minute until the ship passed by her, yet it feels like many years have zoomed by. Will her smile stay gentle, her body nimble, her skin soft, after the pain of child bearing and scars of life? Will she preserve her serenity of the ocean, or will she become consumed by daily worries of the human world? Will her hair still shine many moons from now, as she lies in the arm of the fortunate being, who will stroke it with tenderness while placing soft kisses on her cheeks?
As the tall ships sailed next to the island of temptation, the sailors wonder if they wish to resist, or submit to their desire for the siren.