Nothing in life
was as sweet as your kiss.
So soft, so yielding, so fine.
Nothing so warm as your
cherry chapped lips.
That I savored when,
once, you were mine.
I paid my respects
at Your wake yesterday.
The morticians are good at their art.
You, sleeping princess, beautiful still,
through the decades that we've been apart
Except for your lips
which so oft I had kissed;
The beautician left them
grim tight and dry.
Both of us know they were
nothing like that.
That's when I let myself cry.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
Nothing in life
was as sweet as your kiss.
So soft, so yielding, so fine.
Nothing so warm as your
cherry chapped lips.
That I savored when,
once, you were mine.
I paid my respects
at Your wake yesterday.
The morticians are good at their art.
You, sleeping princess, beautiful still,
through the decades that we've been apart
Except for your lips
which so oft I had kissed;
The beautician left them
grim tight and dry.
Both of us know they were
nothing like that.
That's when I let myself cry.
Paying my last respects to a former love.
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