RSS

With Subtle Shades Of Warm

01 Aug

image

Shall I name her yet undone;
she, but a world within herself,
so permeable in fragrant form,
tho’ unyielding to staid hands.

How like a rose, she may wither,
yet e’er be soft, and e’er sweeter
than the breath of morning dew,
or with gossamer breeze, she falls.

No fragility of hands e’er hold her;
yet she submits to my ardent gaze,
as starlight that flickers and dims,
if not fixed in the memory of sky.

In moonlight, her form may rage,
as with sun, she recoils to shadow;
hands capture what eyes cannot see,
and words play sweetly to the ear.

But, she is a child of nature, borne,
tho’ unwittingly to be complacent;
for, in my eyes, she is a tempest,
tho’ her heart clings to timid waters.

Advertisements
 
Leave a comment

Posted by on August 1, 2016 in My Poetry

 

Tags:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: