Your lips are like the rose petals, soft upon my skin, and set upon my
memory like the sun upon my skin.
Your love does grow throughout me, with
branches bending low, to touch the very depth of me and completely fill my
soul.
Like vines in the garden, you weaved yourself about me and cover me
with countless leaves that please my every senses.
Candy scented blossoms are the kisses of my love, sweet--like Mr. Lincoln
roses in the summer sun.
Your touch is very gentle, thy thorns are very
kind, and do not hurt a gentle heart, the ones like yours and mine.
More
delicate than the buttercups, more sturdy than the vine, our garden of love
has grown and grown, nutured by our time.
And when the summers of our
garden fades into the fall, our love will be forever spring in the summers
of our minds.
glowhite
SINCE May 3, 2000 YOU ARE UPPITY VISITOR NUMBER 4007