Red On Roses
I fly into your eyes
like a moth skirts
another dance around the
perimeter of torch flames
like on subtitles
at foreign matinees, my eyes
on yours are spellbound
like the pleading of crying violins
your voice finds the path
to my deepest soul
like crème brûlée lingering
on my tongue, I want to
taste more of your kisses
...and your love, like
soft on silk,
red on roses
and sweet on youth
leaves its permanence
upon my heart
By Martine M. Gibbons -
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