Crimson Kiss
Ah, the maiden pure in the spring of year,
With her pale creamy blushing smile,
Serves to hide the strength that will come in time,
And the growth that will take a short while.
For it seems but only a moment,
From the blush to the swelling growth,
As the ardent lover wings away,
But results are the action of both.
The purity of her clothing,
Will be shed when necessity reigns,
And the sweet, sharp kiss of crimson,
Is the gift of the lovers’ pains.
NicknamedBob . . . . . February 25, 2008