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The death of a sweetheart.

I'd touch her cheek, and she would glow,
her eyes bore a sultry gaze.
Oh how I ache as I recall,
my love of younger days!
I'd touch her hand, and see a flame,
rise high inside of her,
and as her lips, moved close to mine,
I'd feel my soul concur.

We'd dance beneath, the midnight moon,
make love until the dawn.
She was; chess master of my life,
and I a paltry pawn!
Yet in embrace, when two were one,
my equal I had found.
Through love and lust, and passions grasp,
to this love I was bound.

I stagger on these lonely days,
all that I've known behind!
Just echoes of days loved and lived,
repeating in my mind.
Her cheek is warmer in my mind,
than my last touch of her!
I didn't know upon her death,
I'd feel my soul concur.

I carry on it's what she'd wish,
and I would wish the same.
Until once more I can embrace,
and find in me my flame.
I did not write to educate,
nor write to be profound.
But just to spill and realize,
to this love I am bound.

Learn more about this author, Sid de Knees.
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