A rose my eye does catch from there across
The grove, the vibrant hue allures my glare.
She differs bright, stands out amongst the dross
And captures me by standing just right there.
My impulse was to pick her up, I longed
To hold her in my calloused hands that day
To heal my soul. Perchance my day prolonged
Would be then hastened to be on its way!
I knelt and reached, but what? A grim surprise!
What pain does reach my finger tips this night?
The pretty rose and greenish stem surmise
To cause my then sore hands a great pain's plight!
I will admit, she looked more pretty, yea,
From there, her place much farther, far away.
YOU ARE READING
Not From Chicago.
PoetryThis is a collection of my best poetry in my opinion! I hope you enjoy, whoever may paint their eyes over the letters and words I've arranged! PS-This book includes poems from "A World In Words" by yours truly. Go check out the other book, if you li...
