Women versus Woman, 2016
Love ones; excuse these urges I now purge,
The brief kiss that always exits her door,
The encore of lust, no permanent words.
But I must tour, cure this curious lure.
The plural roses, sweet culprits, steal me.
I yearn to multiply this term called she;
Perhaps the youth of man, tricks thee,
Yet this passion married to thrill is me.
And while these eyes may add, still fond I am.
Fond of the rare court, she will always be,
The way she humbles, this lesser term of man.
Yes, now I may spread, but retire? Yes to thee.
I pray this case settles before long,
And wins her promise: fate is never wrong.
Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2016