My Lasting Minutes

The sweet wine's taste, a fatal lure,
Men wither away, unable to endure

A woman's scent, a powerful spell,
Capturing men's hearts, they fell

A woman's body, graceful and soft,
A man treats her with reverence aloft

Being with his wife, a true celebration,
Love builds, consumed by no frustration

Just be yourself, and love will find its way,
No need to dig deep, or for love to stray

Those who exploit love, will be blessed indeed,
Even if buried deep, under the clod's seed

Cherish what you have, my dear,
Tomorrow, it may not be here.