The Lips That Smelled Of Spring
The lips that smelled of spring
are missed by me who did her wrong;
even days of breeze and sunshine
delight the senses and mind
with the passing of a cloud,
but can they make me feel fine?
Before passion ran into the blood,
I conquered many, I was a king;
hearts fell for me like flowers from trees,
gorgeous girls flocked to me like hungry bees...
there was no sense of guilt in me ever,
I didn't mind having fun in any kind of weather.
The lips that smelled of spring are gone suddenly,
the eyes that charmed me with smile have found another,
I won't be holding hands in lovely fields of heather;
are there more lips drunken with sensuality?
Did I ever think once, I'd have been forever lonely:
living an empty life that offers sadness, not joy!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2017