Far, Too Far Away
It is the thing I can’t forget,
When last I saw her face—
Is was porcelain, as if a doll,
Her gown, it was of lace.
Her hair was as the chestnut burr;
Her lips were as Merlot—
Her eyes were blue as sapphire,
With a kind of sadness, though.
I saw her last beneath the moon,
Though she was far away—
And yet I thought she would return,
Having found her smile, and stay.
And still I hear her footsteps,
For my mind deceives me so—
About the sill I hear her voice,
Should the wind decide to blow.
How sad it is, her leaving,
Whether by the moon, or day—
Since for all my make-believing...
She is far, too far away!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
