Loves Irony
Slowly tenderly she mocks me with love,
Whispers to taunt and flirt, the crazy dove,
So handle the one you desire with kids glove;
Who knows what makes her glide in or shove.
Those locks bold and hidden torment her style,
Make her walk the extra snow covered mile,
Breathless she clings to the warmth, waits a while;
In delight with nature's naked beauty shine:
Let me follow the footsteps she imprints,
Before the storms come and covers the flints.
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.
