By Bud Koenemund
(Written: December 2020)
Know’st thou that moment in each Romantic
Comedy, when yon fiery mistress
Doth approach the hapless teen male, flicking
To and fro, with careless ease, her lustrous
Mane; while time – defying reason – passes
In slow motion, and said young man does gawk;
Stupefied – as concupiscence crashes,
O’erwhelming intellect – too stunned to talk?
I have known thee beyond thirty moons full –
My heart being surrendered from the first –
And, though I am mad – thought, by some, a fool –
I swear to you, with passion unrehearsed:
When I see thee,
my entire world stands still;
Struck dumb, as heavenly choirs
trill.
Showing posts with label mad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mad. Show all posts
03 May 2021
Slow Motion
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13 April 2017
What Makes Me Write?
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