the kiss upon the neck that turns
the nerves inside the body out –
the summertime that burns the skin
and leaves the sweating soul in doubt
for there is folly where there’s love,
and where there’s love, there’s oft remorse –
and mem’ries don’t a pillow make
and rivers fester when you dam
the source
I think but am not sure sounds familiar that this is a re-read form for me. In any case, of the same poem I think; in any case … how good this poem is thank you so much for the share. Perfectly.
Thank you. It is a repost.