by Unknown
Oct 2009 363 Views 5 comments
Blue Waters
Pen in hand ... poised to write
No thoughts come to me this night.
No ardent verse or fervent prose
to catch my love now in repose.
So here I sit and think ... and think.
An empty glass from which to drink.
With each regret my thirst grows more
as on white blue waters pour
blue waters pour.
No thoughts come to me this night.
No ardent verse or fervent prose
to catch my love now in repose.
So here I sit and think ... and think.
An empty glass from which to drink.
With each regret my thirst grows more
as on white blue waters pour
blue waters pour.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2009
About this poem:
A poem about an evening of trying to write a love poem to someone who's love is no longer.Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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