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Personal Note:

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Poem

Ah! Many times, a thousand ways
A million chances, to speak with you
I gather all, the faith and grace
They come together to still be few

Lead wielded fist, or cup of paint
I’d always try, to capture her
Her gaze, and too, her pretty face
So that, they both, would be my stars

She’s cold as ice, but still as sweet
This would make me love her more
She holds my heart, my head to feet
And toils them like a billiard ball

I would, still love, and hold her dear
Because it feels, so right and true
Although, I know not how I’d fare,
I’ll bear, till one’s more beautiful.

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