I gaze,
wistfully through
the midday haze,
upon sweet beauty,
the maid with flaxen hair,
as she dances sweetly
through the air.
I dare
not to breathe,
unless she feel my stare,
the merry poppies caress
her angelic feet,
as if they wish to bless,
her faint heart beat.
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Heart extracts
PoetryCan you pin love down with ink and paper? Or on screen with pixels? No. But we must try Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous. It does not brag, does not get puffed up, does not behave indecently, does not look for its own interests, does...
