At just eighteen, you do not realize
You hold the world within your slender form.
The heat of Summer smolders in your eyes,
such passion as befits a lightning storm.
The innocence of Spring in your sweet voice.
No blemish fallen on your ruby lips.
Though you should stop, to go on is your choice;
Your blushes blossom from my fingertips.
You marvel at the pleasures in my arms.
As woman you emerge from my embrace.
From May to June, I’ll take your girlish charms
And leave behind a woman’s knowing grace.
Your Spring now gone, your Summer’s just begun;
I’m honored that you chose me as the one.