-Unfinished Italian Sonnet-

We painted a weekend with memories

Aye, this Amtrak ticket must go two ways

Itching for perfect kisses in three days

You smelled sweeter than syrup in the trees

Our first kiss was like blooming in fair breeze

Lips under teeth feeling the need to graze

I don’t mind my thoughts are off in a maze

Now reach through my chest find the pump and squeeze

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.