When I kissed you In an arid waste of that cheek The tangle of your hair did dissect Indulged in making a tale brief Of some sombre trivial demise Of hope forlorn or of rainy nights And the communication between two hearts Flowered perhaps in meadows of grass Sweet whispers stopped not A song of soul on warm lips Neither charm away nor stop now The wonder of love in mind’s crypts.
Reason for writing:
As Wilde stated that truth is such a rare commodity that it is a pleasure to speak of it sometime, that is what I am trying to do here.
Birth sign: Taurus
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