Monday, Nov. 04, 2002 - 7:28 p.m.
A Poem
She burns my soul!
A hot ember upon my lips she stole.
She has absolutely no conscience about it!
Yet, I pray for more, I adore, I crave thee; L'amore.
To recall the past, was a waste of time,
My fingers caressing her waist, as mine.
Recalling the only moment when her bosoms were bare.
Perfect pink nipples rising to kiss the air -- so fair.
As if a journey to capture, her immortal rapture!
Eight score plus four more!
La Mia passione, ma la non Mia moglie;
Ma la sua moglie.
I devote my self
To the friendship immortal.
To the moments untouched
I have missed so much.
And yet there remains her smile.
To pass awhile in the years gone by.
To see her anew, to love her as due.
Brings a tear, yes so many my child.
For what do I cry? But for my dream passing by?
Is this not the woman I sought?
Give me one reason why. That I should not try
To embrace all the years untaught.
As she once did for me. This I give her.
'Twas not but a tiding for the coffer?
Do you now see in me. The one that will never be?
But yet, there will never be a final offer.
