I sang for my girl
ages before, I found her by the crimson moon
Ages, before, love was a crime
Some paper, bills, who made it fine
To the melody of her arms,
I weep, seldom
So seldom, That, she never made it to my lips!
A pair of cupid balls, that joggled
Every by and then, in my salad days
Her cyan sleeves, and dark cheeks
Flaunt me a grubby modesty
Her soppy, limbs, and rainbow smile
I ran to, her, grasping her sleek fingers
The world went poxy
when our eyes met, for a while
These days, churn so blind;
I canoodle every girl but found none so kind
Latest posts by Karry Mighel (see all)
- Poem: Thirty Days of Love - March 16, 2022
- Poem: Dusky Love - March 11, 2022
- Poem: Visions for Love - February 9, 2022