Harem

From her native land was torn
Sailed across the golden horn
Carried over turquoise floors
Through the gorgeous harem doors

Bathed and perfumed, painted lips
Gauzy pants on silken hips
Janissaries guard the walls
Giant eunuchs pace the halls

Renamed nakshadil, the fair
Meaning beautiful and rare
So the sultan came by night
Happy with his new delight

Silver moonlight's glow reflects
Blue mosaic minarets
Zephyr breezes waft the air
Softly cools the loving pair

Stirring with her fingertips
Pomegranate juice she sips
Nakshadil contented lies
In her scented paradise

by Terry Holzmacher

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