From South to North,
A mere four chairs apart,
Your laughter rings,
A melody to my ears.
The glasses perched on your nose,
Fit you perfectly,
As I watch your fingers dance,
Your words become a blur.
For my eyes have taken the reins,
Drawn to your magnetic presence,
Just a few feet away.
My heart skips a beat,
As I craft this verse,
With thoughts of you as my muse,
In this poem, I weave,
From my seat,
Silently yearning.
A pang of envy for your pen,
How I wish you could hold me the same,
A twinge of jealousy for your paper,
A hopeful thought,
That you would gaze at me,
With more intensity than that sheet you hold,
My dear.
—ancn.
YOU ARE READING
Whispering Winds: A Stargazer's Silent Symphony
PoetryThis is an original collection of poems written by me with only one inspiration. This is an untitled poem. I made it so for it is a series of poem that describes one person and if I could ever put a title in every chapter of poems, his name would be...
