Paul Begadon Poetry

A kiss, a fleeting thing,
Fleeing it flies on
For endless moons,
'Til I take flight.

A smile, warm and wide,
Willing all the world to wake
While, wishing, I would find
Will to return the same.

A blink, a tempting tease,
Taking from time a glimpse
At natures masterpiece, twinkling
As dark flashes an instant.

A heart, plumbing life
Through sweet pulse while
Piteous passion pains my own.
'Til mine pumps gold your locked.

A man, I walk, I adore,
I love, and I mourn.
Mere male mortal blood.
What mores required?

To break your damn locks.

Poet: Paul Begadon