Oh if I might know the passion we feel
when in each wakeful moment
my yearn could become ever so real,
yet truth would be our only lament.
Cast her doubts upon a wintry night,
when in silence her heart would still
this sensuality a blaze in passion’s light
could wish truth allow such is a will.
He that would, did, and will protest
hers a lessening fire of sweet remember
at least in the logic of time could suggest
for eyes did lie would feel less this ember.
If when now arctic glaze in Nature is a chill
would that my heart melt in her arms until.
© Scott F Savage 2/2020