The Love Bug
A careless kiss,
a quick embrace,
doesn’t normally
leave a trace.
A loving kiss,
a warm embrace,
always you find,
leaves a trace.
Love circles the heart,
like clouds across the moon;
it captures us quick,
before we get a chance to swoon.
It blinds us,
and guides us,
on our sweet way,
even tells us just what to say.
We find ourselves captured,
even before we have begun.
By the love bug,
the old son-of-a-gun.
poem by David Harris
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.