The french call it le petit mort
She did suddenly exhort
But it is so much more
As u i silently adore
each moment entwined is a little death
le petit mort in each caught breath
The blood red hearts the symbols of love
the olive branch held like a dove
to float on a cloud to love out loud
To be openly proud and to unshroud
to strive for right
To sleep deep each night
When we two are ringing
Our hearts are singing
When we are entwined
Our hearts have dined
The room is a beautiful shade
Of purple and of white
Le petit mort
Every single night
Beau Golden
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem