Of Promises
She slips away having turned cold
No reason, it’s just her nature
Her first night will always linger
Tickertape dreams always endure
The heat of romance quelled her cold
Torched by the warmth of her beauty
Surrounded by youth’s couture
We stood between a past and future
Promises, fragile champagne bubbles
Bursting from a lost hearts longing
‘Neath fireworks of passions lie
Succumb to faded street light paths
Thus, do we dream upon waking
Of promises slowly grown cold
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2025
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