Amy Lowell

(9 February 1874 – 12 May 1925 / Boston, Massachusetts)

Decade - Poem by Amy Lowell

When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.

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Read poems about / on: red

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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