07-09-2015, 05:23 AM
(07-09-2015, 03:12 AM)Mark A Becker Wrote: For GivingGood egg,
I felt the joy the springtime sun can bring,
the day you sang your heart to me, alone.
You offered me a song that I still sing,
its melody, the dearest gift I own.
When days were young- affection raw and bare-
hot pleasures blazed between our souls like fire.
We danced on glowing embers without care
and fanned the flames that sprang from pure desire.
Tonight, we looked through books of photographs,
we had to smile at how we looked back then.
Between the pages, notes that made us laugh,
a message written sometime way back when:
a silly old saying that steadily carried us through-
that love is forgiving, makes life worth the living- is true.
For Giving
I felt the joy the springtime sun can bring,
the day you gave your heart to me, alone.
You offered me a song that I still sing,
its melody, the dearest gift I own.
When days were young, affection raw, and bare,
hot pleasures blazed between our souls like fire.
We danced among the flames, without a care,
then stoked the coals that grew forever brighter.
Tonight, we looked through books of photographs,
we had to smile, at how we looked back then.
Between the pages, notes that made us laugh,
a message written sometime way back when:
a silly old saying that steadily carried us through-
that love is forgiving, makes life worth the living- still true.
tectak

