By my side a smile he forged
And when i took leave he puked and disgorged
By his tender and warm arms i was pleased
But deep within his soul, my heart he squased and squeezed
He was nothing but my soul
But to him i was a tarted ancient scroll
He would seize and my lips kiss
As in his head he'll scorn and diss
He was my all but my life
But i never his wife
On his shoulders i would cry
Thinking the bearer of heaven had blessed me with a moment of sigh
I never knew who i dinned with
A dream he was Richardson Smith
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem