...in response to poem #28 by
Cinnacorn2801 about regretting
loss of innocence,
a most cherished prize...
Thank you for the inspiration.
Though she lost her cherished prize,
she still could see through teary eyes,
visions of a future love so wise.
With gentle hands to dry her eyes,
he waits to trade her hearts and tries,
to soldier on and never dies.
While walking under rose red skies,
they'll share their thorns and be allies,
to bring their lives to new highs.
As she hears her soul's ecstatic cries,
she'll abandon thoughts of other guys,
and forget the memory of one's lies.
When she meets his deep, blue-lake eyes,
she'll know into her heart he spies,
as madly in this lake she dives.
While in his arms she softly lies,
breath warms ear as she sighs,
while on silken wings her mind glides.
To stall passion, an act that's wise,
on moonlit walks and Sunday drives,
they'll share their hopes and plan their lives.
Then one day he'll bid her "rise",
and with a ring that's just her size,
he'll prove to her she's still a prize...
YOU ARE READING
What I 'Felt' To Say Was...
Poetry"Poetry can be therapy, so shut the door and get comfortable, we've been through a lot since our last visit. Glad to see you brought coffee. Just a reminder, I know this is expensive, but like life there are no guarantees. I do expect to stir s...
