Gershon Wolf Poet Rhyme

Searching For a Sign

The wine was the finest
  cuisine smooth as creme
The atmosphere buoyant
  garnished with a moonbeam

She searched his eyes for a sign
  those deep pools of blue
Tonight, of all nights, iced over
  flashing, 'I can never love you'

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Newton Ranaweera November 11, 2020 at 4:35 PM This is a lovey one, Gershon!! A fine cuisine, indeed!!

Caren Krutsinger November 10, 2020 at 4:59 PM Ooohhhh this one was cold! Gershon Wolf November 10, 2020 at 5:16 PM Cold as ice! He's a 'woman-eater!' Beware! :) gw

Beryl Edmonds November 9, 2020 at 11:35 AM The eyes are the mirror of one’s soul, lovely poem Gershon... Belle Gershon Wolf November 9, 2020 at 5:05 PM Thank you for your encouragement, Belle. Happy Monday evening, Gershon

Regina Mcintosh November 9, 2020 at 3:22 AM Sad... so sad. Lost love is so painful... Or unrequited love. God bless you. You're a wonderful poet, friend Gershon Wolf November 9, 2020 at 4:59 PM And you, Regina, write wonderful comments! Thank you, dear friend. :) gw

Michelle Faulkner November 8, 2020 at 9:10 PM Maybe that is why I've always preferred men with brown eyes (David's are brown, btw) - those icy blue eyes so sharp - Gershon Wolf November 9, 2020 at 1:59 PM Never thought about the difference between men's eye color before, Michelle. Thanks for calling it to my attention. Best always, Gershon