Ode to Female Arses

In the curve of the crescent moon’s glow,
A gentle arc, soft and slight,
She sways with a tender, subtle flow,
A whisper of grace in the night.
Its charm lies in delicate tease,
A hint of fullness, shyly shown,
Inviting a gaze with such ease,
A quiet beauty, all its own.

Next blooms the ripe, round peach,
A plump delight, bold and sweet,
Firm yet yielding to the reach,
A juicy promise none can beat.
Its lure is in the bounce, the sway,
A playful jiggle with each stride,
Drawing eyes in bright array,
A feast of form, pure pride.

The heart-shaped marvel then appears,
Wide below, a tapered start,
A symmetry that calms all fears,
A sculpted piece of living art.
Its pull is in the balanced line,
A hug of hips, a lover’s dream,
Each angle crafted so divine,
A silhouette supreme.

Behold the apple, tight and high,
Perched proud upon her frame,
A cheeky lift that catches eye,
No hint of tame, no shame.
Its magic sparks in pert defiance,
A youthful dare, a sprightly call,
It beckons with its crisp reliance,
A shape to enthrall.

The hourglass dips and flares,
A cinched waist, a generous spread,
A rolling wave that boldly stares,
A tale of curves so richly read.
Its power lies in harmony,
A dance of proportion’s sway,
A timeless pull, a rarity,
Enchanting every day.

Then strides the long, lean blade,
A subtle slope, an elegant line,
Stretched with poise, no masquerade,
A form both fierce and fine.
Its draw is strength in quiet grace,
A runner’s pride, a sculpted gleam,
A lithe allure in every space,
A understated theme.

The bubble bursts in buoyant cheer,
Two orbs aloft, a giddy rise,
A jiggle bold, so crystal clear,
A joyous shock to dazzled eyes.
Its charm is unrestrained delight,
A carefree pop, a vibrant beat,
It owns the room, day or night,
A rhythm so complete.

The teardrop falls with tender weight,
A gentle swell, a downward kiss,
Soft fullness in a fragile state,
A poignant shape of bliss.
Its pull is in the mournful curve,
A touch of sorrow, sweet and deep,
A form that lingers to deserve,
A beauty none can keep.

The square stands broad and strong,
A solid base, a grounded might,
Unwavering, it hums along,
A fortress glowing bright.
Its strength is in its steady hold,
A quiet power, firm and true,
A shape both warm and bold,
A rock to see us through.

The oval stretches soft and wide,
A smooth expanse, a gentle plain,
No sharp edge to divide,
A calm that soothes all strain.
Its gift is in the peaceful sweep,
A restful form, a tender span,
A beauty simple, rich, and deep,
A comfort to the clan.

The diamond glints with angled flair,
A pointed peak, a widening base,
A rare design beyond compare,
A sparkling, daring chase.
Its thrill is in the unexpected,
A prism’s edge, a flashing glow,
A shape so wildly perfected,
A treasure to bestow.

The petite pearl shines so small,
A dainty dot, a modest crown,
Yet holds a charm to enthral,
A quiet queen of renown.
Its lure is in the subtle play,
A hint of mischief, coyly sweet,
A tiny star that lights the way,
A lovely, soft retreat.

The mountain rises, grand and vast,
A mighty ridge, a towering sweep,
A monument to time amassed,
A wonder bold and deep.
Its majesty commands the scene,
A regal heft, a primal call,
A shape both fierce and serene,
The mightiest of all.

Now pause, reflect on each design,
From crescent arc to mountain’s reign,
Each contour tells a tale divine,
No two could e’er be same.
Yet in their difference lies a truth,
A shared and radiant gleam,
For every shape, from age to youth,
Is beauty’s boundless theme.

So here’s the song, the final chord,
To arses vast and small,
No need to judge, no need to hoard,
For glory graces all.
Each sway, each curve, each daring line,
A marvel to adore,
Thirteen wonders, all divine,
Gorgeous evermore.