Celebrate Poetry Month
I would like to share this poem I thought was a good one. By a black woman Gladys May Casley-Hayford
My Lips
My lips were buds of innocence until you came one day
And drew a fountain from my heart and careless went your way,My lips were hungry, eager flowers curved in ecstatic bliss
To gather the soft sweetness of my next lover's kiss.My lips were luscious ripeness of a crushed and poisoned vine
When you bent your lips upon me and my soft ones clung to thineMy lips are withering fading flowers, full weary unto death
Dew without moisture is thy kiss; wind without heat thy breath.A fugitive tear wells up from my eyes and is secretly, silently shed.
Are lips that once were innocent, so withered, so parched, so dead?
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