Long Lost Love Poem by Stan Petrovich

She wakens;
It has been a decade's sleep.
She hearkens;
It's I to her depths, not cheap.
A lovely brown curl is twisted
By her crooked finger;
If I had only listened,
I could have heard the murmur of her shapely heart;
The murmur of her lips apart;
But in enticement I grow stupid,
And, lanced by some succubus cupid,
Only did tell her I loved her profoundly.
And she shakes that off like a fly, roundly.
And flees off into the night.