Her corpse lay far away and out of sight in a narrow grave

Where scotching fog and roaring winds all night drive;

Shroud with plight, the moon beams tonight seem to flow in waves.

Tears on tear on sleeves, could the dead know my pent-up grief?


Last year in the leisure hall and after a light rain fall

We soared like doves to an old tune, at our leisure, and with new moves.

Her back was pressed intimately against my aroused chest

And my Hands were probing softly over her restless breasts.

With obscene routines, and common expectations thrilling our spines

She gyrated her rear and wildly stirred against my set crotch;

How with renewed zest she responded to my naughty touch!


Who’d have thought such a brief acquaintance would be the last!


With whispers and perfumed hair

Her charm ticked both my faculties and essence with care;

Won over by her calculated gestures, and subdued by her vulgar postures

Could I resist, even if how stubbornly, her inciting nature!





My fancy, so young, talented and full of glee

Now interred hastily and so soon along her tragic life

Is rested from the painful worldly sorrows and strives.

Revived even if she be, could I take her for a wife?

My hidden agony, distress and woe

Who may my deep, deep regrets know!






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