Love's denial.
I must not pretend
that she is more than just a friend,
but why my heart beat twice
and quite so often thrice,
and why this loving pain,
as the blood rush through my vein,
her absence, I do not have a care,
but why? do I search so everywhere
at the laughtered softness of her voice,
I'd lie, if I said, I did not so rejoice,
but; I wish my mind and heart would agree,
that she means naught to me,
find me, some wise old alchemist,
to unravel the tangle of this mist,
but would not he, tell me,
what my heart doth realize,
when the warmth I see,
of her Autumn coloured eyes,
and all that now I realize.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2016
About this poem:
Written so many years ago to my then the love of my life and now the loving absence and its pain.
Comments (6)
Kathy
Phil.
Thanks for sharing dear friend.