A crystal glass of wine still in my hand,

such smiling, silky, sexy thoughts explode;

within, they move ~ I can no longer stand …

I should, by now, have learned my lover’s code.

Yet, with'ring vines now cover life's desires ...

in time, they each grew hard, unmoving, stilled.

My heart, you’ve lit with sweetly burning fires;

why then, is our love's warmth no longer filled?

“Too late,” I say, “hard vines conceal my want;

compelled, I’ve longed (at last) to start anew!”

Of you, I always dream; you always taunt,

aware that never your love will be true.

No longer can I care for this, I know ...

while moaning passions ~ it is all for show.

~--------------------~