Nymphadora.

Coming out of the pond in Eve's attire,

Brushing a strand of hair from her face.

A cold wind melody plays on her naked skin

Making her teeth gently seize her flowery lips.

The greatest poem would seem a satire,

All due to the mesmerism of her gifted grace.

A pirouette on her tiptoes makes heads spin,

Hearts would throb and do inner flips.

Blobs of water dripping from fiery orange hair

Douse the fire of her feminine frame.

The delicate touch of her feet on the ground

Blooms the buds and teases rivers.

An osmosis of her odor mingles in air;

Modesty is what makes her gain fame.

Celestial aura, she carries all around,

A nymph so mysterious, giving nothing but shivers.