Colours Of Love Poem by John Sensele

If perchance at your door love knocks
Rock, lock, talk, incentivise
Caress her tresses, caress her hair locks
Catalyse her motion and improvise.
If perchance love you turns down
Count it a misadventure
Every night when on your eiderdown
Your head rues the adventure.
If perchance love speeds up your pulse
You've probably struck gold
Which you should mine on impulse
Long before she grows cold.
If perchance love never looks your way
At the peak of your adolescence
Wonder why love for you couldn't hold sway
Given that you believe in coalescence.