How adamant she is
That one can waltz to anything -
Factually, I seek to disagree,
But I can think of nothing else
When she pulls me to my feet.
Hands intertwined,
She seeks to dance
Inconceivably fast,
But descends into laughter
As we stumble through the night.
The moon looks down upon us,
But my tired eyes return its gaze
For merely a moment -
Neither mortal nor celestial judgement
Could convince me to
Stop loving her; to desist the acts
Which bring that divine smile
To her ambrosial lips.
I shall be rewarded later, of course,
But her pleasure
Is enough for me -
No, perhaps just that smile,
Or even a favourable glance
From those molten eyes;
My heart still melts every time.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
