Awaiting with eagerness was she, a pallid Canvas,
For the vibrant hues of experience and the sensual rush
From her one special one, skilled and talented Brush.
So when Brush approached, Canvas received, without a flinch,
Brush's sensual tracings and touch to her every intimate inch.
His dramatic strokes went up and down, and then fast and slow,
To every secret recess that Brush might possibly go.
His vivid colors drenching while caressing her very soul,
Stirring, swirling and awakening every part of her being,
Canvas' innate reluctance and inhibitions finally freeing,
With Brush's passionate strokes as the solitary impetus,
That sensually awaken and energize her once pallid surface.