Blue eyes and blonde hair, I talk so much of her it's not fair.
I loved her then and there, now I watch her go as I stare.
One more time she turns my heart will tear, a girl like that is rare.
I want to move to a new step on the stairs, but she pulls me back in her chair.
She smiled, her touch like a feather.
She smiled, she always changed the weather,
She smiled, she has me connected to a lever.
She frowns and next thing I know my heart is severed.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To The Writer: Volume 1
PoetryJust me writing poems, can be sad, can be happy, matters about he day and what I'm writing about. This is really for me but if you like it a share, vote, comment would be much appreciated, thank you.
