4B

A smile is as simple as it’s spelt

Purity is as pleasant as you felt

Last night

I was filled with fright

When you were in sight

I lost my might

Because your beauty was so bright

Even without much light

My lips you wished to bite

But we both know it’s not right

This poem here is not a fight

But one to make us fly high this love kite

The Ambic Philosophe

Copyright © 2010 Ambrose Thompson Arthur

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