Hath no taste when so compared,
thy lips nor wine, neck nor breath
to this love of sweet despair,
wounded hopes sans tourniquet.
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Hath no taste when so compared,
thy lips nor wine, neck nor breath
to this love of sweet despair,
wounded hopes sans tourniquet.
Poems & People 
As usual your words are poetic beauty personified.
Thank you Thomas, you are too clement with me.
“tourniquet” – exquisite.
It surely has been a long time Miss Briggs, where have you been cumberbatching off to? 😀
Thank you for your much needed input.
Superb, simply superb
Thank you so much.
Lovely, lovely.
Thank you so, so very much Miss Kate Loveton.
Everytime I scroll through the feed I can count on you to drop some gems!! Another lovely piece
Thank you so much.
A crisp, textured taste of “unaccustomed wine.”
May our goblets forever quench the thirst of parched souls and eager minds. Thank you.