The Blossom of Spring

The blossom of spring is my friend,

still warmth beckons to hear;
fall far away all my worries,
listen my heart, haste no fear.

Ah, my heart doth ache for your kisses,
soft breathe upon my soul,
you are my trusted lover,
time paints her pictures of gold.

We see now futures of light,
we hear now, no sorrow there,
love fully fragrant most bright;
time is the hastener of care.

Treasures, I will carry forever,
poets die sweet in their blush;
your name last I will utter,
your kisses last I will touch.

(Copyright. Decadent Housewife. 2009. About ten minutes ago. How about that Keats? Eh? Eh? Okay, I'll go back to the kitchen. This is what happens to Decadent when the night turns rainy. She writes lovesick poetry.)