Grapes of Italy
On a bed of grapes, we made wine.
You were my one true love, so fine-divine.
In my vineyard, grew your soul.
Squeezed from grapes-you’ll
get drunk by plump, juicy lips,
again-taking two trips
of the tongue.
My bells rung
all night long
Once, we belong
together.
Whether,
we will stay
with another or stray…
Know this-
Your love was bliss.
© Sonya Rose
