My Lips (Aquah LaLuah)

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 thine

My 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?


Poem by Gladys May Casley-Hayford