The other day she looked so good in Red,
that jacket set off her hair
and the pleated skirt was flirting
with my eyes,
as she walked towards me
with kisses on her mind.
I love her softness,
when she wears Pale Pink,
she looks good enough to eat,
with those see through nightgowns
I come undone
when she whispers
her X rated intentions in my ear.
She is such a beautiful woman
and she looks good in clothes
of every cloth and color,
but nothing can compare
to how she looks in Black Linen
when death comes a knocking
at someone's door
I die a little bit inside,
........every time she cries,
as I find her beauty truly disturbing
especially if the funeral is to be mine___
because she is to die for when she wears Black
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem