before it drops
to the ground
the pretty lass
picks her best
to cloth her years
colouring them with
love, heartbreaks and all
before she loses her greatest asset
lined with lines that spread cancerous like spears
to stab at the heart
grandma's wedding pic
so dreamy her eyes
the man holding tight at the waist
beefing up her best years
jasmine sends its scent to the wind
an innocent pretty lass praying for love to come
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love's coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journey's end in lovers' meeting-
Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty, -
Then come kiss me, Sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Topic(s) of this poem: love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.