Poem Number 19695

Unopened

My love left before night's
black silk cover lay,
that gives permission for things
frowned upon by day.
The ambrosia of passion
between him and myself
still sits in the pretty jar
upon a "must have" shelf,
waiting to be opened,
and growing dusty indeed,
while the years soften the bite
of that sorest need.
.
Anon.
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Sad pangs in this one. Good job! :) Rae
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Beautifully written. ms
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Both of you, thank you for your kind words. Anon.
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Heart felt sadness. Time wasted in unuse. Powerful, Anon. Billybob