Tuesday, November 7, 2017

My love your lips are like red, red rose,



SONNET  64
My love your lips are like red, red rose,
Upon your breast spreading silky hair,
All go mad when you make thigh pose,
I know just the breast color is fair.
My Rose’s lungs hurt I know it well,
All night you vigil why do you do so?
Something is wrong in your bosom hell,
I am here sweetie full of earthly woe.
Either you are too chary or tell a lie,
In making love I do believe in you,
You trust me not another comely guy,
Lives in the heart to make bill and coo.

Ah! Loyal friends in life are found a few,
These are like those who sit on the pew.