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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.
~--------------------~
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