Fixed this lone red tulip, a woman’s mouth of passion kisses, a nun’s mouth of sweet thinking, here topping a straight line of green, a pillar stem?
Who hurled this bomb of red caresses?-nodding balloon-film shooting its wireless every fraction of a second these June days:
Love me before I die;
Love me-love me now.

Similar Posts

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *