My fair love, sweet Apple.
She is not queen of fruit,
But God made her my only one.
Her long silky hair of my mother's,
Does comfort my face and hands.
Her eyebrows of slim moon shape,
Does flirt my heart and mind.
Her telling eyes hold deep oceans,
Where my soul swims in living dream.
Her nose, the cliff of all beauty,
Raises her class and my pride.
Her chili lips dress no need of lipstick,
That all men's fantasy is my daylight kiss.
Her mystery of half moon in her mouth,
Is where our lonely souls connect.
Her voice vibrates my soul
In her moaning, yawning and whispering.
Her neck of swan beauty,
Paints rosy scene in my eye.
Many lust for the melons,
But her peaches are my only delight.
Her pair rosy cherries
Are dipped in sweet burgundy wine.
She is my mysterious rain forest,
That I am so blessed
To be the one to explore.
She is my ruby goblet,
Holds all great savors
That I taste fulfillment in all seasons.
She is my home and harbor,
Where I shall berth and rest,
Shelters my lonely soul and weak strength.
Her name is my only poem,
My very last word on earth,
And my wake up call to rise.
Poem Source: Poem# 32, Extracted from Verse Drama 'Footballer And His Apple'.
Book Source: SITWOL
More Information: http://sitwol.blogspot.com/
Note: For advertising of book 'SITWOL'
