Red, I love thee most.
When fever blisters in
my youth.

When blood is red,
and young at heart.
I hold thee close to
my warm heart.

Red like wine that burns
so deep in my chest
I hold thee deep.

Forever is not so close
to youth to blend and mend
with silver hope.

Red is simple like
the love of women's hope,
but broken like the
summer slopes.

I love thee red
as I rumor reads.
But love thee most
when lovers kiss.

Hold me not
forget me sum.
As wine thus bleeds
on winters lust.

09/23/2006

Posted on 09/23/2006
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