Last Love
I have lived and loved; I do so believe;
in mind and in my heart, once in a while;
that organ is not easy to deceive;
the former so much simpler to beguile.
Yet not so, living yes, the love not true;
the morning glory dawns that I had seen
before, I knew were pointless without you
to lay beside, that haze of dew between
us, breath slowing, soft lips twixt shoulder blades
salt tasting, hands assaying softest curves.
Then, all too soon, it seems that time invades
in truth, it is the mirror that observes
not I; you smolder as the day we met
I don’t believe we’ve loved enough, as yet.
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