At
very first glance, her beauty slays,
She’s
there in the flesh, not a vapor,
Pulse
revs up and breath gives way,
As
you put pen to paper.
Every line a work of art,
Every
word has you stirring,
Oh
the joy I feel in my heart,
With
every rhyme that’s occurring.
Happy days of cheese and wine,
Sweet
chocolate and red rose,
All
things come to the end of their time,
As
poet writes their last prose.
Rapture gone that once was mine,
Your
lips no longer ignite,
Darling
we’ve reached the end of our line,
No
more words to rhyme or write.
