Ode to Women’s Nipples

Oh, the nipple, a bloom on the chest so fair,
A tender bud kissed by the morning air,
Some small and pert, like dewdrops bright,
Pink as dawn’s first blushing light,
A delicate crown on a curve so fine,
Nature’s sweet and subtle design.

Others rise bold, a dusky hue,
Deep as berries beneath the dew,
Round and full, they proudly stand,
A warm caress from life’s own hand,
Softly puckered, a gentle tease,
A sight to cherish, a form to please.

Some stretch wide, a rosy plain,
Freckled soft by sun or rain,
Areolas broad, like petals spread,
A canvas warm where touch is led,
Silk beneath the fingertips’ roam,
A welcoming field, a tender home.

Then there’s the shy, the subtle dot,
A secret kept, a treasure not forgot,
Pale as cream, near hidden from sight,
Yet stirring joy in softest light,
A whisper of beauty, small and sweet,
A quiet grace where hearts might meet.

Some gleam dark, like twilight’s call,
A velvet shadow on skin so tall,
Firm and high, they catch the eye,
A striking note ‘neath open sky,
Resilient, lovely, fierce, and free,
A sculpted mark of harmony.

Others sway soft, a gentle mound,
A ripple of flesh where peace is found,
Lightly textured, a playful rise,
Dancing beneath admiring eyes,
Warm as honey, smooth as song,
A charm that lingers all day long.

Some perch proud on a fuller breast,
A beacon bold, a crest expressed,
Taut and eager, kissed by breeze,
A joyful form that aims to please,
Vivid in color, rich in tone,
A queenly gift, uniquely grown.

Then come the long, the tender tips,
Stretched by love or life’s sweet grips,
Elegant lines that softly sway,
In quiet beauty day by day,
A testament to time’s embrace,
A lovely mark on every face.

Some blush faint, a pastel gleam,
A fleeting hue from waking dream,
Barely there, yet oh so dear,
A whispered promise drawing near,
Subtle magic in their hold,
A story shyly told.

Others flare wide, a sunburst grand,
A radiant ring on skin so tanned,
Boldly framing what lies within,
A dance of flesh, a playful spin,
Warm and wide, they laugh with glee,
A vibrant ode to liberty.

Some sit low, a nestled prize,
Softly tucked where shadow lies,
Gentle hills that rise with care,
A soothing touch beyond compare,
Cozy, lovely, sweet to see,
A quiet nook of ecstasy.

Then there’s the crinkled, puckered kind,
A texture rich, a map to find,
Tight and playful in the chill,
A merry spark, a tender thrill,
Responsive, lively, quick to sing,
A joyful note that springtime brings.

Some glow smooth, a polished stone,
A silken dome on flesh alone,
Even and sleek, a perfect sphere,
A calming sight to hold so near,
Glossy, bright, and softly made,
A tranquil beauty never to fade.

Others bear marks, a storied skin,
Lines or bumps where life’s been in,
Unique as stars in midnight’s sprawl,
Each a tale, each a call,
Wondrous still, they shine with might,
A living art in every light.

Oh, the nipple, in all its ways,
A thousand forms through endless days,
Varied, vivid, wild, and true,
A gift of life in every view,
Delightful always, bold or small,
A lovely anthem for us all.