lost, not lost
my dearest love oft' pledged her soul
for life, though life then took its toll
my heart the thread-bare casualty
of her regrets (though ne'er of me)
now she breathes not my name -
while this fool yearns her all the same …
her eyes recalled that burnished brown -
the choc'late lace that crimped her gown
that frock that for my sake she'd worn
and 'midst our throes of passions torn
soft-daubed with moonlight blue -
her china skin thus moonlit too …
her locks were tawny, plat'num streaked
to frame that visage crimson-cheeked
they swirled her eyes, one dark abyss
so spilled their strands to spice our kiss
with dappled hints of fruit -
as fingers weaved their attributes …
her mouth, twin bows of plums divine
that drew their perfect match to mine
those pearly whites and sugar tongue
the pride of heav'nly strains unsung
as moist as highland mist -
the kind designed to find them kissed …
her flesh bloomed as the warmest May
those soft-twined corners of each day
that court you with their fairest frills
the sweet veiled places, warmer still
with treasures hidden deep -
wild wonders 'midst her carnal keep …
still all these traits found fairer yet
that charming calm her arms beget
sweet languor of her love and limbs
to fill my heart and hope to brims
thus lost within her grace -
the drowning depths of her embrace …
there's some who muse why I still pine
for sweet love lost - no longer mine
despite these traits and those between
it's more the things that CAN'T be seen
that I miss, dear as life -
that cut my soul deep as a knife ...
and wend my mem'ries … raw and rife.
Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
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