Like an iced vodka crowned with rind of lime,
Your beauty did assuage my love-torn soul;
I drank you in as if to soothe my mind,
Though arm in arm, each knew the other’s goal.
I pulled you close and took another sip,
Then fixed your gaze and stirred you with my eyes,
Brushed from your face an errant auburn twist
As though it were some awkward faux disguise.
That moment you stood true—my dearest friend,
Sent but to numb my sharp and heart-felt pain;
I felt your favor thus would never end,
And I might ever blush in your sweet reign.
Still, drinks are drinks—so measured, you were nice;
When full consumed, ’twas not much left but ice.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.