Like a Lark
My lady has a passion like a lark
Her burning heart is made from a small spark
Immortality strikes what’s never lame
She’s never burnt by the eternal flame
My lover holds some joy here before me
In a sentiment unlike what we see
There’s solid power through her perfect skies
Opening amazement inside her eyes
Her love boils to the surface with bubbles
She plays a soft harp which in turn doubles
Secretly time has eloped through to her
A desire that’s unlike any other
A myriad purchased by her tenderness
Countless touches into my awareness
Russell Sivey
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2014
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