A careless kiss,
a quick embrace,
doesn’t normally
leave a trace.
A loving kiss,
a warm embrace,
always you find,
leaves a trace.
Love circles the heart,
like clouds across the moon;
it captures us quick,
before we get a chance to swoon.
It blinds us,
and guides us,
on our sweet way,
even tells us just what to say.
We find ourselves captured,
even before we have begun.
By the love bug,
the old son-of-a-gun.
Yep - that old love bug'll get ya if ya don't watch out! Cute little poem, David. Think we've all been there at one time or another. Linda :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Has one always infected with the bug, you speak the truth my friend...