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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=420312" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Umbrella</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=420312" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The sheets were still warm<br>from her last fleeting kiss, <br>Redolent of the perfume she wore.<br>Surely the memories of nights such as this<br>are what our existence is for.<br>They had met on the train<br>which was not at all strange; <br>they had noticed each other before.<br>That he shared his umbrella<br>and later, his bed<br>was a gift of the evening's hard rain.<br>Her skin was sun kissed<br>and she had bee stung lips.<br>Her eyes, a mischievous green.<br>True, she had an umbrella, <br>but why tell the fellow<br>she happened to meet on the train.<br>Let him think he had conquered, <br>It was she who had stooped.<br>Perhaps she would see him again.<br>She had left him asleep, <br>slipping out like a thief from<br>a night filled with Love and Champagne.<br>She did not regret<br>letting herself get wet.<br>as it led him to act as her swain.<br>He'd been tender and sweet<br>and his taste was a treat<br>once they'd come in from the rain.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=John+F.+McCullagh">John F. McCullagh</a></strong></div>