Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.167
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Emma. 

I met this replica of snow white, a day after summer. Her skin was still tanned from the burning summer sun. Her eyes glowed with a hint of twinkle within it. When she smiled, she smiled with her eyes, her mouth, and her ears. Her smile was beautiful, and truly she was beautiful.

Many people said she was like the stars, beautiful but unreachable, they were right. She never let out enough emotion, to enable one classify her feelings, she was never inexplicably happy or terribly sad, she was just Emma, and that was good enough.

She was an extrovert, always seeking conversation, in paths that could not be treaded on. She wasn’t my elder, she was merely older, and that gave her even more glamour, than could be predicted for a single person.

She wore her hair down, elegantly but chic. She was our role model, she was our dream. We looked at her and saw nothing but beauty. But then she got wild, we tried to convince ourselves it was a phase, but at some point we grew to accept her for her.  

When she spoke, she looked at you directly in the eye, some people feared her for that, some loved her for that, but I felt her for that. I would describe her as a delightful disaster, a term I rarely used to classify people. 

We all thought that her beauty made up for her lack of brains, truth is that we were wrong; she was as smart as she was beautiful. She was the whole package. Our dilemma was her Hollywood ending.  

You can say that we did revere a person, such as Emma.  I never spoke to her; I idolized her as a goddess, there but not there. But all that glitters isn’t gold. As she grew older, she grew uglier. She wasn’t the fairest of them all anymore. Now she wasn’t just Emma, she was Emmanuella.  

Some lost interest, some stared bewildered as how a queen had sold her crown for filth, but I, I still loved her, because now she wasn’t just beautiful, she was human. 
She still smiled with her whole body, she still acted wild, she still stood out, the only thing that had changed was now she was just like us; imperfectly perfect. 
Before she was Emma, now she is Emmanuella.

Soon she will be gone, and like time never return. We spent so long a time, convincing ourselves she will be here forever. Like a Nicolas Sparks movie, it was sad but we watched, as the lassie we loved had slowly been drifting apart from us.
Never shall a time like this come again, when we shall meet our very own angel. 


To Emma.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required