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Array
(
[sid] => 148386
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => May-December Kisses
[time] => 2009-03-09 00:14:42
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => She is a flower given in summer time full of ocean-ness it 's vastness swims in her eyes. She moves soft winds before her; floating lightly; shiny new with a young soul touched only by sentiments innocent; all experience her delight. She has never known Mean Love only Love Requited. Joy seldom comes to the Stapled Heart and hers has never been. I am older than she; I am mangled innocence; yet still I crave what I see her soft putty etherealness; her purity. I am the Winter Bulb underground; she is summer sun warming ocean waters. I need to know is her heart, and my dark bulb together yet fertile? What irony meeting brings in words wandering cross pages when she says; "I love you." My Winter and her Spring were clutched in her hearts first meandering into Love's Realm. When individuals invest them their best souls and their best summer flailings. we must perforce measure the fit. She's the rare soul not potted yet not yet a bulb a'growing yet before me now professing to love my old soul covered by winter ground frozen. I ponder and say to her: "whisper me just one word your soul's summer smells inhaled your bouquet refreshing my dusty soil; my winter eyes greying I am mighty stirred by youthful seeds yours; which arrive with summer's souling fitful winds blowing innocence which coaxes old flowers to new blooms. But I am," I said "I am too old for you but not for Summer's Kiss and planted her cheek with my Winter Kiss and set her free to sail summer winds too find her own true younger Prince closer to her own age. And I died surely that day having forfeited life's last Love Note for Youths Future Bliss. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 190 [topic] => 43 [informant] => lnnie [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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