The Flowing River
She is certain that life is a fashion show
and kisses are the flowers of love in bloom,
but the boy she likes does not seem to know
the difference between Prada and Fruit of Loom.
He looks at her and sees only eyes like fireflies,
and lost in the shadow of her soft moonrise
he does not notice what she likes to wear ~
But, oh! The flowing river of her golden hair!
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.