You settle into your chaise lounge,
absorbed in a Silhouette romance.
The heroine is chaste,
but ravishing, reckless. She is on a rampage
for Love.
The hero is chaste,
but wears his hair long
so that it flutters in the wind
on the moor.
You look up from the page
and into the aqua ripples
of the swimming pool.
You peer deeply into the depths.
You ask:
Is Love a lie?
this was really good...i especially liked your last line...it makes you think...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is a keeper and it makes the reader think. Second thoughts race to my head. How do you do it, Stuart?