poem by Susan Sorensen
or later I will leave you dear.
And though I give you dutiful warning
When I am gone you will still feel like mourning
The enchantment of this warm body near,
Whose heart beneath was always cool and clear,
Not beating for you. The smile adorning
These lips not loving, though never scorning,
I confess, never either, quite sincere.
while I warn you thusly, that I will
Leave, certainly and without pain,
I will right now press your lips until
You forget and bow to my breast again.
Tomorrow is not promised by my kiss;
Tonight we make the memories you will miss.