First.
In the garden where love ever grows
we tasted summer's golden ooze.
Waxen cells melted as spirit to spirit
we sipped sweet honey's lit candle.
When raw emotion quenched thirst
we scented desire's hotter liqueur.
Fresh as then is that untied illusion
I could ever forget first passion.
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Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: October 23rd, 2021 04:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet
Offline)
Comments4
Now don't get this old fella going .. I could rant forever extolling the various virtues and merits of this passionate post of yours ..
Four perfectly formed stanza's stacked with such precision that even before reading I just knew I was gonna fall head over heels for them .......... Neville x
Ha - -- Nowt but a cold bath is needed for old fellas to get over this hot read - but for sure dear Neville that does not and never will include you ...............x
Very enjoyable read Fay. 😊
Oh no you couldn't LOL for there is so very much of it in your poetry you tease.
Sensual as ever in the garden of love.
Wonderful romantic words Fay.
Andy
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