Love On a Misty Morning
Wettened by the mornings dew
Closely spaced where rows of roses grew,
Footprints stained the cobblestone.
Where my love and I had walked, alone.
By Charles Messina
On that dawn, behind roses we sat, spotted by none,
Resting my head on your breast with hearts beating as one,
Holding hands and peering into your panther eyes,
Seeing in those eyes, waves of desire surge and rise.
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