Infusion Poem by Mark Richardson

Lost. Lost. Lost in confusion
Lust lust the glove of illusion
Save a soul for now it’s sold as love is mere infusion


The wrong song has a place
Instrumental in its bow
Her lips give off a given taste
Incessant shows me how

A wink, I think of hidden lace
Theatre in her show
To drink away would only waste
The bond we fight to grow

Lost. Lost. Lost in confusion
Lust lust the glove of illusion
Save a soul for now it’s sold as love is mere infusion


A merry go of fast and slow
Leaves upon the ground
Hurry now for we know how
A beating heart must sound

Terror of a love we lost
Remain so pleased we found
Hurried through at such a cost
lies cheap to any pound

Lost. Lost. Lost in confusion
Lust lust the glove of illusion
Save a soul for now it’s sold as love is mere infusion