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The Colours Of Love

In the first springtime of our love
Everything was as fresh and new,
And tender as the bright green leaves
Bursting forth from winter’s drab coat,
Alive with burgeoning desire
And the joy of revelation
As we explored in sweet delight,
The pale tones of our nakedness
Subtle as the cherry blossoms
On the trees outside your window,
Every kiss replete with promise
Of greater wonders yet to come.

With summer our passion burned bright,
The colours of our lustfulness
Fiery as the rampant spires
Of red and gold of the flowers
That grew in unchecked profuseness
In the gardens where secretly
We nightly danced in ecstasy,
Our flesh hot with untamed yearning,
As we consummated our love,
In the unquenchable rapture
And carnal exhilaration
Of intoxicating desire.

The unforgiving march of time
Sadly, could not be long denied,
And as the season turned to fall
So your ardour cooled and died,
The ripe colours of your passion
Withering like the fallen leaves
In grubby piles in the gutters,
To be washed away by the rain
Until all trace of joy was lost,
The rapture of our summer love
Just a fugitive memory
As I wait for spring to return.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2019 by Keith Paver

All rights reserved, including all copyrights and all other intellectual property rights in the contents hereof.

The compositions and contents herein are not to be copied, reproduced, printed, published, posted, displayed, incorporated, stored in or scanned into a retrieval system or database, transmitted, broadcast, bartered or sold, in whole or in part without the prior express written permission of the sole author. Unauthorized duplication is strictly prohibited and is an infringement of National and International Copyright laws.

All names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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