One; the gentle, loving kind,
A soft compress of heart and mind.
Two; the fierce, consuming love,
You say you both fit like a glove.
Three; the subtle squeeze of hand,
For love like yours has no demand.
Four; the loudest, smacking kiss,
And draw apart, for breath, a hiss.
Five; the whisper in your ear,
Arm round waist and hold you near.
Six; the spoken, kneeling kind,
Chivalrous, perfect, hard to find.
Seven; the deep look in the eyes,
We'll only part when comes demise.
Eight; a chaste lips to the cheek,
Always loving, always meek.
Nine; your arms twined round the neck,
You've picked the winning from the deck.
Ten; the walking side by side,
All your secrets, you'd confide.
Eleven moving into twelve,
Mix the passions, dig and delve.
Thirteen, lucky for love is wrong,
Nonsense, brilliant, your own song.
Fourteen: all kinds makes it yours,
In this love you write your own laws.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.