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I Miss The Passion
by Ken HarnischI miss the passion
The wine of your lips
Tasting mine.
I miss the summer breezes rustling the
Drapes; the sighs that rose from the divan
As lips and hands both touched the fire
I miss the trembling, the quivering nights
The echoes of love wrought from
Despair spun into desire
I miss the secret hours
I spent in your arms
And in your heart
I miss us, most of all. 08/15/2004 Posted on 08/15/2004
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Melissa Arel on 08/15/04 at 10:14 PM Bittersweet indeed.. the emotion was captured very well in this piece.. |
| Posted by Amy Niggel on 08/15/04 at 11:29 PM What a sad sweet poem. Very well written. Good job as usual. |
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