Oh, let the month become week.
And the week by day be weak.
Yea, let the day become minutes,
And minute to second be limit.
Indeed, i miss you! .
Thy eyes, legs and facial rule.
I thirst for the warmth of thy body,
That exhilirates me into glory.
I miss the fragnance from thy mouth,
That bundles my sorrow out.
I miss the pattern inscribe in your face,
That are display'd when smile did frown chase.
I miss the laughs of thy mouth,
For they bid my worms farewell to the south.
I miss everything about you,
Thy eyes, legs and facial rule.
The round balls of your legs,
That tends to me a lovely peg.
Can't wait any longer, my Angel.
To behold you, and once more feel special.
C.2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem