That same-old soggy
saggy tune
I left your legs
a bit too soon
In the afterglow of a
dim-lit room
... I thought of you
My love's as fragile as any flower
As rich as any cultivated soil
As true as any mathematical theorem
As deep as any soul lies within
But when my loves' love is aggrieved
by a death that certain words may bring
Its' petals fall, its' soils miscarry,
its' theorems prove false and its' soul wears thin.
Love had its' peak
in the wars of togetherness
& dried like desert clay
in the truce
of friendship.
No comments:
Post a Comment