Love Life

I remember an infirm,
early to rise and
wail for her eyes,
warmth from her bosom;
my world confined to her womb
and then refined in a crib;
both I left in a hurry,
running out to the green
football field and the
naughty brats in shorts.

Now, again I open my eyes
to the rainbows
formed from the drops
of longing in my eyes,
for love still,
the one forged in passion.
But the thirst remains,
for the morning dew is due,
and I want to leave the playground
for her arms.

It's my love for life,
nay, my life for love!

French academic painter William-Adolphe Bouguereau's First Kiss