Long Ago

I kissed lips that were perfect,

her eyes beheld only me as

though we were granted to live

from creation and from birth.

I saw her lips as my fruit,

delectable and without tender

sentiments that must grow,

in order for love to survive.

Hidden within her features was

was stoic beauty, a languishing

charm without which her

personality would expand from

an unseen mirth.

I found mercy in her arms-warm

from rich cardigans that even my

wallet can ill afford. They were not

necessary as my love bore warmth

enough to sustain us-even allowing

passion to thrive.

Her face beheld an everlasting charm

not given to sudden shifts of decision

she leaned contentedly upon the

crook of my arm.

I counted myself lucky even amongst

the most undesirable haunts as I

often desired do, she remains content,

radiant and ever safe from harm.