The questions you ask me.
The ones you make me ask myself,
With your hair caressed by spring skies,
and lips
capable of setting Antarctica aflame.
I have no answers to why it should be so.
Why me? Why this magic?
But to your question,
"How would I like to be kissed?"
Often,
fiercely,
if you please,
impertinently.
impertinently.
LOL, I wasn't sure I was going to participate this week.
I always feel a tad silly writing love poetry